Bring Me To Life
by Jean-theGuardian
Summary: Buffy TVS & Angel Xover! When Connor defies 'Cordelia', the chain of events unite both SunnyDale & L.A's heroes for the explosive final battle with Jasmine and the First Evil. Who will survive the End of Days? Set during Buffy Season 7 / Angel Season 4
1. Prologue

_The End is here._

_Not just the end to a conflict seven years in the making. Not only to a sacred tradition countless generations old. Not just the end to an order of Watchers as ancient as humanity itself, or the fall of a dark empire that dates back to the very beginnings of Time. This is the culmination of a tale of triumph and tragedy. Brotherhood and rivalry. Love and hate. The defining moments that bring out the very best and absolute worst of humanity._

_Ironic, isn't it?_

_We have witnessed this struggle for seven long years, yet it is a struggle that has been taking place for eons. In distant times un-witnessed by human eyes, on countless worlds, in realms beyond our wildest imagination. It is a struggle that we need look no further than our own selves, within our own hearts, to find._

_Right versus Wrong._

_Good versus Evil._

_Light versus Dark._

_This is the end of a story of champions…_

…_not only of the one girl in all the world known as the Chosen One…_

…_or a Champion out to make amends for past misdeeds…_

…_but many brave, unique souls, champions in their own right, who come forth as our last hope, the final barrier that stands between salvation and destruction, the only lifeline in the last, desperate battle between our world and the clutches of an evil as ancient as time itself. Between life…and eternal damnation._

_But be forewarned; the cost of war is great. And for every victory, there is - there must be - a price to pay. Champions will rise, heroes shall fall, darkness shall descend, and our civilization as we know it shall be pushed to the brink of extinction. _

_Remember…war will never decide who is right…_

…_only who is __**left**__._

_Prepare, dear reader. And be afraid._

**Omnium Finis Imminet.**

_The End of Days is here._

_The End begins…_

_Now._

**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**


	2. Part 1 The Road Not Taken

Bring Me to Life

By JeantheGuardian

Spoilers : ANGEL- Season 4 and BUFFY- Season 7.

P.S. I read up on a few spoilers for the grand finales of BUFFY and Angel's Season finale.and I don't know if they're wrong or not, but I just had to do something about how AtS's "Inside Out" ended. It didn't do Darla and Angel justice. And I'm not sure if Buffy's end will do so either, so.here this is!)

Summary: Connor makes a different choice than to sacrifice the girl for his "child".and this leads to Buffy, Darla and Angel banding together for a war for Cordy's soul.and against Jasmine and the First Evil. Who will survive the End of Days?

Pairings: B/A, mentions of A/C, B/S and Angel/Darla, Dawn/Connor, Wesley, Fred/Gunn, Xander/Anya, and other surprise pairings.and guests!

Disclaimer: Joss owns them all, to my everlasting chagrin. So don't sue.

Feedback: Cool. Always great to hear from the people I write this for...YOU guys!

Distribution: Feel free to take this story and use it, just let me know where, though, okay? Okay! Enough of this legal mumbo jumbo. On to the story!

* * *

Bring Me To Life 

Part 1- The Road Not Taken

* * *

Choice there is not, unless the thing which we take  
be so in our power...that we might have refused it.  
--Hooker. 

_Choice. _

_Everything begins with choice. The ability to decide, to choose for ourselves. We do it in the morning, when we decide between rolling over and staying in the bliss of sleep, or to waken through the pains and groggily stumble to work. We do it when we decide on how we spend our monthly paychecks. Whether we're going to step up and ask out that special someone we've had our eyes on, or stand back in quiet fear as someone else takes your place. Whether we're going to try to give to this world, or to take from it. _

_Choice is what defines us. And in turn, we are defined by our choices. _

_Which brings us to this one crucial moment in time. Where in L.A., the City of Angels, the City of Lost Souls, in a abandoned meat packing factory, whose death-soaked stench of dead animals stills fills the air, a troubled young man, his heart tormented with despair, loneliness, and rage, must make one such choice. As two women, one bathed in the light of goodness and salvation, the other drenched in the darkness of evil and fear, struggle in a desperate tug-of-war for his soul, he holds the life of a young girl, no older than his own tender age, in his unsure hands. And now the boy must make a decision that may hold yet more heartache for him regardless of his choice. A choice that is complicated for so many reasons, and yet is as simple as black or white. _

_Life or death...which would he decide?_

* * *

"_Connor, listen to me_!" Darla couldn't waste anymore time. She had to reach her son. 

"**It's not her**", Cordelia calmly uttered to her mate. The calm was a mask, hiding the growing exasperation, the fear of losing control over her most powerful pawn...her champion.

"_You have to let her go_!"

"**It's your father. This is how much he hates you...**", Cordelia urged him on, the nervousness rising to the surface, betraying the smug look on her face earlier.

Darla's eyes brimmed with tears. "_I love you. Please…", _she pleaded softly to her only son.

As he heard his mother's desperate pleas, he felt his own heart begin to break. How could he refuse her?

"**Torturing you with this _sad_ imitation of your dead mother**!"

But God, what if Cordy was right? The group always loved to use that disgusting magic. What if this was all a lie, what if...what if he was being tricked into killing their baby?

HIS baby?

"_Don't let her do this_!"

"**Are you going to let them do this to us? Are you going to let them kill our _baby_**!?"

"_Connor, Listen to me_!", she pleaded one last time, her beautiful blue eyes brimming with tears.

Connor felt his head spin in circles. The swirling began to consume him.

His mother. His family.

Mother.

Family.

Motherfamilymotehrfamilymeotherfaylmimoehterfalimy...now the words didn't even make sense!...His thoughts became muddled into one, and God help him, he did not know what to do.

Above all of that, he heard the girl's quiet sobbing. "Please….I wanna go home...I didn't do anything, I wanna go home, please…."

Her cries broke his heart, the poor girl couldn't have been, what, 15,16? She was probably on her way home from school, just trying to get to her home, her family.

Family.

Connor had a family to think about, didn't he? A child, who everyone was hunting, who needed him. A woman he cared for, maybe even loved, desperate for her child. HIS child. He wondered if his own mother, standing right there next to him, felt the same way….before she died.

Before he was born.

Born.

So peaceful, so blissfully unaware of the cruelty the world would show him, what horrors awaited him. So innocent.

Innocent.

"I didn't do anything, please...", the girl's voice echoed in his head. And that's when the voice in his heart began to reach his mind.

She DIDN'T do anything.

She was innocent. She was just trying to go home, and she was lost and scared and crying. What had she done to deserve this? She shouldn't have to die...just for his child. Or anyone. She didn't do anything! She was innocent!

His own mind roared out over the sea of voices, over the calls of the women around him, the thought his mother tried to convince him of, of the thought that, at his very core, he knew to be right, to be just---

_This_.

_Is._

_WRONG_!

"NO!", he bellowed at Cordelia, his eyes filled with pain, and righteous rage. He picked up the whimpering girl by her bonds and jerked her to her feet.

"She didn't do anything! This is wrong, Cordelia!", he said as his eyes brimmed with tears.

He felt his mother sigh with relief next to him. "Good boy, Connor", she smiled, proud of her son.

Cordelia's face lit up with rage. "What are you saying!", she demanded, her fists balled up, shaking with unbridled anger. "You'd let our baby DIE because of one stupid, meaningless little girl? _YOUR_ BABY ?"

As he spoke, he gained even more conviction. "No child of mine will ever be baptized with blood…led alone the blood of an innocent."

"You idiot!", she shrieked at him, leaning in dangerously close to his face. "Don't you realize what they're doing? Angel's turned you against me with this…this…pathetic excuse of a vision of your dead mother-"

"She's real enough to _me_!", he snapped back, not noticing the way Darla's eyes lit up when he said that. Love and hope filled her soul down to the very root of her being.

"There'll have to be another way, but not like this!", he continued. "I'm taking her home. _Now_!" He started to take steps away from her, dragging the bound girl behind him.

"You _dare_ defy **ME**?", Cordelia growled.

He stopped short, and turned to look at her.

_'Defy_?'

That wasn't a very Cordelia-esque thing for her to say. He took a closer look, peering deep into his mistress's eyes.

Those eyes that once could captivate him to no end. Those beautiful brown eyes that could have commanded him to leap from the highest summit to the deepest ocean. They were still brown, just as beautiful...

But something about them was just wrong.

There as no warmth and kindness reflected off those orbs, only rage and desperation. No compassion and caring, but demand and callousness.

No good and purity, but something...

...Something...

"Evil?", Darla finished her son's thought. "Yes, baby. She's been lying to you all this time."

Cordelia whirled on the angelic vision of Darla, her eyes narrowed. "Nobody's talking to you, Casper", she sneered. "You might be dead, but keep interfering in my business and you're going to wish you never existed!"

"The only one who doesn't exist is you…_'Cordelia'_", Darla retorted back, calmly giving a knowing smile to the Dark Queen in front of her.

'Cordelia' snorted. "And here I thought Drusilla was the crazy one in your line." She turned back to Connor, transfixed on the two women, with the bound girl tugging weakly at his side.

"You see, Connor?", she turned back to the confused boy. "You see how they use lies with the truth? You see how they're manipulating you even as we speak?"

"Manipulating?", Darla's image balled her fists to her sides and held them there. "All this time, doing the things you've done? The Rain of Fire? Stealing Angel's soul? Telling MY son to kill his own _father_? Murdering that family of priestesses? And you have the gall to accuse _me_ of _manipulating_?"

Connor's eyes widened. "Th…th-that family..._you_ did that??" He flashed back to that night the gang came upon the sickening finding of those poor children alongside their parents, cut to pieces and lying in that horrible pool of blood.

Darla grimly nodded. "Yes, Connor. She did that. And much, much worse."

"LIES!", Cordelia roared. "Connor, are you going to allow this...**_thing_** to commit this blasphemy against me?"

"Blasphemy?", Darla chuckled, raising one golden eyebrow. "Why, 'Cordelia', you speak as if you were…oh, I don't know...a God, or something?"

This time, Cordelia smiled. And it was a dark, sinister smile. She let out a chuckle that was filled with such malice that it chilled Connor right to the bone. He had never heard Cordelia laugh like that. Ever.

"A God?", she sneered. "Honey, I'm beyond a god….I'm your _master_!"

Connor noticed too late a dullish red light glowing from her right hand. He hadn't seen Cordy do that, either. Well, she glowed, sometimes, but not that kind of glow. Not that kind of evil, creepy glow that was coming out of her right now...

His instincts kicked in at the last moment, everything in his body telling him to get himself, his mother away from.

"MOM, LOOK OUT!", the boy cried.

But it was too late. The hand had snaked out and grabbed Darla's image by the throat. Darla immediately gave a gasp of air, as a brilliant reddish light glowed around her. Darla cried out in pain, gasping for air, her eyes shut...looking as if she were actually choking.

_But.that's impossible_, Connor thought. _She can't be choking; she'd have to be ali-_

**_Oh, my God_**

Darla reeled as suddenly, she found herself pulled into a chokehold, 'Cordelia' wrapping her free forearm around Darla's neck, pulling her around in front. With the other arm, she pulled the meat cleaver against the stunned blonde's clavicle, causing her to gasp in fright.

"_MOM_!", Connor cried out, his other hand still on the kidnapped girl, who gasped in horror at the scene before her.

'Cordelia' glared at Connor, her eyes burning with cruelty and fury. "I tried to get you to do this the easy way", she glowered. "But, _oh_, no! Not Broody Junior. I guess it's true what they say. 'Like father, like son'."

"Let her go!", Connor gritted his teeth in anger.

"Awww, isn't that sweet?", 'Cordelia sneered at her ex-lover. "Showing concern for Mommy Dearest? Just too damn bad you couldn't apply the same concern to the woman expecting your child!" As she said this, she nudged the cleaver against Darla's delicate skin, making her gag and wince in pain.

Connor was near-panicked. His first thought was that his mother, the woman who gave him life, was being held at knifepoint. His second thought was that his mother, the woman who gave him life, was being held at knifepoint…by Cordelia, the woman expecting his child.

How could she do this, he thought.

"Cordelia", he finally said, an appeasing, rational tone finding its way into his voice. A true rarity in itself. "Come on…this isn't what you want- "

"I'm not a psycho, you twit! So stop talking to me like you're on the bomb squad!", she shrilled. "You wanna talk, Junior? Fine. I have something you want….you have something I NEED."

At that, the girl in Connor's grasp let out a cry of fear and stumbled back, but Connor's superhuman grip on her bonds kept her at his side.

"Cordy, please…don't make me do this.", Connor implored the brunnete, a small tear beginning to trail down his left cheek.

"Connor, Connor, Connor", she shook her head at him in pity. "I thought you of all people would've learned by now…life's about choices. The ones we make…and the ones we don't...it's simple really. You want your mother back? Fine. All you have to do… is slit the girl's throat. "

"Connor, don't listen!", Darla rasped out from beneath the murderess's grip. "Get the girl out of here, nothing else matters, not even my -"

'Cordelia' pressed the meat cleaver further into her skin, this time drawing a thin crimson line of blood. Darla let out a small moan of pain, cursing herself as she did so.

"STOP IT! You're hurting her!", Connor cried out, his eyes wide with fear and indecision.

"No one's talking to you, Blondie!", 'Cordelia' whispered fiercely in her ear. "Now be a good little dead girl and keep quiet unless you want to end up with a new throat hole…just like Lilah."

Darla looked up at her captor and laughed a breathy giggle. "Thank you. Guess you forgot about how 'special' my little boy is, didn't you…'Cordy'?"

'Cordelia' frowned in confusion until she looked up at Connor. His face was a mask of shock and disbelief.

"What?", he drew a shaky breath, obviously stunned by something.

'Cordy' was puzzled, until it dawned on her. Super-hearing! Damn it! I forgot about the brat's super-hearing! Cursing herself for not remembering such an important detail, she could only muster out, "You-you weren't supposed to hear that!"

"It was _you_ all this time, wasn't it?" , Connor realized, beginning to shake with uncontrolled rage. "The Rain of fire, blocking out the sun, stealing my da- - Angel's soul, all those innocent people…you planned _all_ of this, didn't you?"

After a beat, 'Cordelia's' face slacked down and she rolled her eyes. "Well, it's about time the monkey grew a brain", she snapped. "And to think, all this time I had you under my control, the answer was under you all along..._literally_."

"Why?", Connor managed to breathe out, his anger building up inside him like a churning volcano. "Why are you doing this?"

'Cordelia' snorted. "It didn't take much, did it? All a girl's gotta do is tell you how 'special' you are, fill that tiny little brain of yours with visions of fatherhood, a happy little family…throw in some T&A and you've got one whipped little super freak." Noting the hurt appearing in Connor's eyes, she gleefully continued. "Did you really believe that I could actually grow to love _you_? You shouldn't be loved…you should be _locked up_. Thrown away with the other _murdering misfits_ in some rubber-padded room. Oh, and when I called you 'special'? I meant the way you call a little child with Down's Syndrome special. Or some autistic brat. Or a retarded kid. The fact that you let me take you this far backs that up, Connor. The fact is...you're a creepy, self-absorbed, whiny, confused, sad little boy." She paused for a beat, beaming a sickeningly sweet smile. "And _nobody_ loves you."

Connor averted his eyes, a futile attempt to conceal the pain that those remarks made in him, of how deeply those words wounded his soul.

"Connor. Look at me", he heard his mother's soft voice beckon to him. He turned his eyes up to the beautiful woman, who he had never met up until now. To save him from his darkest hour.

"Look at my eyes, baby." He did as instructed, his dark brown eyes meeting Darla's blue-green orbs, which radiated nothing but pure love and affection.

"_I_ love you. Always remember that", she said calmly, though her eyes began to spill tears. "I gave up my life for you because I love you _so_ much….I'll _always_ love you, Connor. No matter what." She gradually lowered her gaze. "But do the right thing now…listen to your heart...trust me, Connor, but most of all…"

As she spoke, Connor noted that her eyes began to follow a downward pattern. He followed her loving stare….all the way down...to the floor…near his foot.

Where the water bottle lay. The one that Connor offered to the girl.

"Trust your heart."

He understood.

'Cordelia' rolled her eyes. "Oh, geez, soap-opera, much? Make your decision, Connor. What's it gonna be? Your mother, or the girl? Time's a wasting, and I've got a baby to deliver."

Connor nodded. "Okay...okay, Cordelia. You win. I'll give you the girl."

"No, please!", the girl tried to squirm away from him, but he jerked her back towards him. She sobbed, mumbling indecipherable words.

'Cordelia' smiled triumphantly. "Smart boy. I knew you'd see things my way."

Connor paused. "Just...one question, though."

'Cordelia' frowned. "Don't wanna answer. In a hurry. Kill her, please!"

"It'll just take a second", he reasoned.

'Cordelia' let out a forced breath. "Fine. Make it fast!"

Connor smiled. "Why are your lips so chapped?"

'Cordelia' was thoroughly offended. "_Excuse_ _me_?"

"Well", the boy shrugged. "I've got a little theory on that…you've probably been so busy planning out this well-laid chaos…you haven't had time to sit down, cool your heels….have a DRINK!..."

With incredible speed, Connor lashed out at the water bottle, kicking it through the air, open bottle and all, heading straight for 'Cordelia'.

The pregnant 'Cordy' was struck right in the head with the projectile, letting out a startled cry before spazing out and jerking backwards into the wall, loosing her footing, balance….and her grip on Darla.

In a flash of vampire-like speed, Connor reached a hold of his mother's wrist and began tugging her away from the room, the frightened captive girl in tow.

"Door. Hurry", was all Darla could manage as she, Connor and the girl ran as fast as their legs could carry them.

"**_Seiza jah n'hast ka lest. Seiza jah n'hast ka lest_**" Cordy began chanting, her eyes growing a dull milky white.

The door slammed about a half second before the three of them could reach the exit…and their freedom.

"_Open_ it! OPEN IT!", the girl began shrieking.

"I'm _trying_!", was all Connor could manage, his muscles straining against the handle of the metal door, which refused to budge.

"She sealed us inside, Connor", Darla realized. "There's no way out through there."

The clip-clop of heels echoed only a few feet from them. The girl squealed in surprise as 'Cordelia' began to walk towards them, meat cleaver in hand, a malevolent resolve on her face.

"Gave you a chance, Connor", she hissed. "Your mother or the girl…now...you can watch them **_BOTH_** _die_."

Darla suddenly grabbed hold of Connor's hand. She reached out and clasped her other hand to the girl's wrist.

Connor was perplexed as to what Darla was doing. "Mom, what are you-"

"Trust me, baby, just hold on!", she said with determination etched into her gorgeous features.

And, for the first time in his life, Connor did as he was told.

Darla looked head on at the approaching 'Cordelia, only a few steps away from them, and scowled. "_Domini, sacrum, recursum spiritum Angelus!",_ she roared.

The last thing Connor remembered was a howling, cold wind, his tight grip on his mother's soft hand, and a bright flash of light before everything went white…


	3. Part 2 Divine Interception

A/N- there will be a few songs mixed in to this fic. I.e. the title, that pretty much determines that Evanecsence will be around here somewhere. Enjoy!

* * *

Bring Me To Life - A BtVS/Angel Crossover Event

Part 2- Divine Interception

* * *

The first thing that she felt was cool hands against her face. Darla nudged her head to one side, before nudging back to her original location.

"Darla?" She heard a familiar voice. A man's voice.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she came face-to-face with the one being on earth, aside from her son, that could still make her heart go pitter-pat.

"A….Angel," she whispered softly.

She knew it was him before her eyes came into focus. For 150 years, they had traveled everywhere together. Even without her vampiric senses, she could still feel his presence before she could lay eyes on him.

Her eyes came into focus as she found Angel, peering down over her, surrounded by his team. Gunn, Fred and Wesley to his left, while Lorne and Connor stood to his right.

"Connor", she breathed, relief washing over her face. "Are you alright?"

Connor nodded, walking over and placing a hand on his mother's shoulder. "I'm fine. What about you?"

Darla leaned her cheek against her son's lukewarm hand, savoring the feeling of her little boy's touch against her skin. Connor's heart warmed with comfort as his mother leaned into his touch so easily, so naturally.

The sight gave Angel a little jolt up his system. His son. Finally reunited with his mother.

It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen, and in his 247 years of life, he had seen pretty much everything there was.

Darla's hand raised up to her pounding forehead. "Mmmnnngh….wh-what…what happened?"

"You tell us", Gunn shrugged. "We were just interrogatin' Hubcap-Boy over there…"He pointed to an annoyed Skip, still trapped in his red force field. "…..when all of a sudden, the lights turn up about a billion watts, and you, Boy-Junior here, and some girl we've never seen before drop out of the ceiling."

At that, Darla's eyes widened in concern. "The girl…Angel, where is she? I- -"

"She's fine, Darla", Angel reassured her gently. "She's upstairs right now, resting. A little bruised, but she'll live."

Darla let a sigh of relief flow from her.

"Darla", Wesley's voice and called to her, and she locked eyes with the former Watcher. She noted that his gaze seemed much more different than the last time she saw him. His gaze spoke of a deep, dark pain. Of shadows within himself, within his own heart. But there were still the flashes of light that played amongst those shadows.

He was still a fighter. A warrior of light.

"Darla, and, believe me, I don't mean this with any malice, but what are you doing here?", he said, carefully picking his words.

For some strange reason, he felt it necessary not to hurt her feelings. He couldn't quite pick out the reason for that. Perhaps it was because of Darla's incredible sacrifice for Connor's birth. Then again, it may have been the English gentleman in him that compelled him to act as such. It struck him with amazement, still, that he had seen Darla several times over the years, on many a perilous occasion. And yet, he had never yet noticed how…beautiful she was. Wesley was not blind. He knew Darla was a ravishing, sensual woman, both by appearance and by the readings in the Watcher Diaries. But the type of beauty she showed now was different than ever before. Pure. Calmed. Serene.

Precious.

Shaking his head slightly, the ex-Watcher continued. "You've been dead for a little more than a year."

"I…the Powers…they sent me", Darla said.

Everyone turned to look at each other with shock on their faces at the name she mentioned. It was clear that this was the last answer they expected.

"The Powers That BE?" an amazed Angel said, griping her hands, softly, but firmly. "**_They_** sent you here?"

Darla nodded gently. "Yes."

"Why? How?", the souled vampire fired away his questions.

Darla paused for a minute, then a strange expression came on her face. As if she had remembered something. She said as she sat up, "I-I don't know how, but this wasn't what I was sent back for…at least, not like this."

"Not like what?", Fred asked, puzzled.

"Human, sugarplum", Lorne answered the Texan beauty. "Our little nightingale's turned human."

Gunn, Wesley and Fred turned to the Host with wide-eyed surprise, before turning to their leader.

"Angel?", Gunn asked. " 'Zat true?"

Angel nodded, without taking his eyes off his Sire. "It's true. I smelled it when she first dropped in here."

Even though he sounded calm and rational, Angel's mind was still reeling from the mysterious drop-in by Darla….as a human again. He wasn't sure how or why, but somehow, the mother of his son had made her way back from the dead once again. He shook his head.

_She's got more lives than a cat_, he thought. _Or Buffy, for that matter. And that's a lot of lives_.

"Some….something that she did. Cordelia", she thought back, trying to recreate in her photographic memory what exactly happened. " Or, at least, something old and evil **_pretending_** to be Cordelia. I don't know, she…did something to me. I was just a spirit. A …a vision. "

"So you…weren't supposed to…come back? As a mortal?", Wesley asked, intrigued.

"Oh, for the love of Pete! Haven't you been listening, you ninny!", Skip groaned as all eyes turned to him. "If 'Queen of the Damned' here says she doesn't know what happened, shouldn't the little light bulb in your tiny little mortal brain be going off right about now? Of COURSE she wasn't supposed to come back as a mortal! Hell, she shouldn't even be here right now!"

Angel's eyes flashed yellow for a moment, clearly not in the mood to deal with the renegade demon's antics. "Fred, if **Tin Woodsman** over there says another word without permission, get out that Infinite Agony do-hickey", he scowled in his razor-edged, dangerously low voice.

"Why wait? I've heard preventive medicine can be the best solution", Fred glared at the imprisoned demon, before making towards the book with the spell to produce the sphere f Infinite Agony.

"No,no,no,no!", Skip amended quickly, looking ever so nervous. "Um…th-th-that's okay. Pretend I'm not here, or something! I'm just a piece of furniture, or a new lamp, or— "

"Are you still talking?", Darla snapped at the mercenary demon. Skip wisely clammed up.

"God. Minions. Never know when to shut up." Sighing, the beautiful ex-vampire resumed talking. "I can't…understand what happened, myself, but…I was sent here. To Connor", her gaze looked up at her son as she said this. "I was supposed to…prevent…"

"Prevent what?", Angel asked, gently.

Suddenly, Darla took on a new face. A more resolved face. "Angel, you have to trust me on this. Something unbelievable is about to happen, and it's not for the better. We have to stop this thing."

"We will", he assured her, his voice firm. "Whatever it takes, that…thing inside Cordelia is going to pay for what it's done."

"It goes deeper than that, Angel", she said, her eyes hinting a powerful knowledge hidden to all of them. And a great fear, as well. "Way deeper."

"How much deeper?", Connor asked, his face scrunched in concern.

" 'End of the World' deeper, baby", she replied, turning to her son for a moment, before turning back to Angel. "We need help, Angel. I need you to make a phone call, okay?"

"A phone call?" Angel looked puzzled. "To who?

"And why?", Wesley asked, equally as baffled.

Darla took a deep breath, ready to deliver the bombshell. "Sunnydale. We need the Slayer".

"Faith?", Connor asked, his eyes lighting up slightly at the prospect of seeing the curvaceous dark-haired beauty again.

"No", his mother shook her head, before returning her gaze to Angel's "The other slayer."

Angel's face dropped in shock. "Buffy?"

Connor frowned before turning to Wesley. "Who's Buffy?"

"The Slayer before Faith", Wesley answered, though looking almost as surprised as Angel was.

"The one who died and came back to life a bunch of times?", Gunn asked.

"The one with the goofy name?", Fred added.

Darla nodded. "Yes. What's going on right here, what's happening to Cordelia, is all tied up with Sunnydale's problem"

"Darla, what is this all about?" Wesley asked, mystified by her news.

"I wasn't allowed to say much before", Darla said, pursing her lips together, so she could wet them. "I don't know if I still am, but I don't care…This all involves the Tro-Clon."

"The Tro-Clon?", Fred asked in amazement, clearly remembering the reference.

"One Born of Darkness…," Wesley remembered the first part of the prophecy.

"…..To Bring Darkness", Lorne finished. "Well, that's gonna be just dandy. What, with Mother Love still running around out there, hatchet-crazy and all, and all she needs is the blood of one virgin to do all that."

"She can't finish the ritual by herself", Darla assured the Host. "She needs a second person to do that…and seeing as how Angelus killed the Beast, and Connor is with us, I don't think she'll be able to find help on such short notice."

"Good. That's one less thing we need to worry about", Angel sighed. "Now, Darla, what does this have to do with the Tro-Clon?"

"This IS the Tro-Clon, Angel", Darla said. "The final arc of it is underway."

The gang exchanged looks of concern.

"Then this is the thing we're supposed to be fighting?", Connor asked.

"Yes", Darla nodded, "but only part of it. That's only one half of the whole problem."

"What's the other half?", Angel asked, puzzled at the sudden turn of events.

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath before delivering the news. "The First Evil. It's back."

Angel's face went blank with disbelief. Images of that horrid Christmas Eve flashed through his mind, when he met the Thing the Darkness Fears for the very first time. It had tormented him with the images of all his memorable kills as the sadistic Angelus, especially that of Jenny Calendar. The first love of Rupert Giles's life, a sub-member of the Scooby Gang. The First Evil had tried to revert Angel back into Angelus by tormenting him endlessly; instead, it drove the iron-willed Angel to his breaking point, risking to burn in the sunrise than to ever hurt Buffy like that again. Only a miraculous snowstorm, courtesy of the Powers That Be, saved him from the oblivion he desired.

"The First?", the Champion asked, disbelief tinged in his voice. "He-it's back?"

"The First-what?", Gunn asked, baffled by what Angel and Darla were talking about.

"The First Evil", Wesley explained. "The original source of all evil. Created all evil, human and demon alike, in existence."

"Get outta town!", Gunn exclaimed incredulously. "Y'all mean evil actually has a source?"

"Yes. And it's power is immeasurably great", Wesley added. "Beyond sin…beyond death."

"And it's beyond insane, to boot", Angel grimaced at the memory of the First's mind games.

"But I don't understand", Fred asked. "What would this…First Evil…want with Cordelia's baby? What's the connection?"

Wesley suddenly looked up, understanding in his eyes. "It could want to use it for the same purpose the thing in Cordelia has for itself."

"To use it as a vessel", Angel realized. "To become flesh."

Skip opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but swallowed his words back when Fred said "Infinite Agony!" with a smoldering warning look in her eyes.

"This thing…is it working with the First, or is it a separate entity?", Wesley asked the blonde beauty.

"I…don't remember", Darla said. "I knew…I KNOW the plan, but the force 'Cordelia' used in making me mortal again must've blindsided my memory. At least for the moment."

"But you'll remember, won't you?", Angel asked, a tinge of desperation edging in his voice.

Darla nodded. "Of course. I might just need a little rest."

"Do you remember anything about the First's plan?", Fred asked. "What it wants? Hat it's doing?"

"I'm afraid that this time, it's really decided to take the gloves off", Darla said, a hint of worry in her voice. "All this time while you've been chasing the Beast in L.A., the First has been launching an all-out assault on the entire Slayer line. It won't stop until Buffy, Faith and all other potential Slayers have been destroyed, and the power of the Slayer is lost forever."

"This thing's going after Buffy?", Angel's voice became tinged with concern.

"And her friends, family and anyone else who sides with her", she confirmed.

Immediately, Angel's protective instincts kicked in. No one was going to hurt his Buffy, he determined. All-powerful or not.

"We have to help her", Angel said in a gritty, determined voice.

Wesley nodded. "Well, surely the Council must be aware. I still maintain a few contacts there…I'm sure if we contacted them, they might be willing to share with us the information that they've collected on the First. Perhaps they might even have information regarding Cordelia's pregnancy-"

"Wesley", Darla stopped him, a sad, pitying look drawn on her features. He knew something was amiss; he had seen that look before.

Right before the bad news.

"What?", he asked, puzzled.

"You mean you didn't know?", she asked, that sad look still upon her face.

"Know about what?", Wesley asked, sensing a dread creeping up on him.

"The Watcher's Council is dead, nimrod," Skip sneered. "Blown to smithereenies by a nice little bomb package. They've been dead for over a month."

Wesley's eyes shot to Skip, then turned back to Darla. A look of disbelief and terror coursed his rugged good looks. He stared at Darla, for what, of him, seemed like an eternity, to confirm what the mercenary demon so gleefully told him. The sympathetic look on her face gave him all the validation to Skip's claim that he needed.

Angel's face displayed his shock, as well.

Darla reached out and gently took Wesley's hand. Her heart bled for him in this hour, his grieving hour. She could truly feel his pain, his denial, his sense of loss. "Wesley, I'm so sorry…I know you had friends working there…I know they were close to you…"

Wesley stared at her, almost as if in a daze, too enraptured in his own pain to fully appreciate Darla's warm hand on his, or the shiver he felt in his system when she touched him, leaving that to a smaller part of his mind. He shook his head and looked back up at Darla, his psyche reeling. "Robson?…Blake?…Eliza?…Conroy?"

Angel realized that those were British names. No doubt the names of all of Wesley's deceased colleagues. Dead Watchers.

"All gone", Darla bit her lip in pity.

"Mr. Giles?", he suddenly asked, feeling knots in his stomach, the man in him wanting to vomit until there was nothing left inside, but the Englishman in him trying to compose himself.

At the mention of the name, Angel looked up in fear and concern. He knew how much Giles meant to Buffy. If he, too, had fallen, it would destroy her…the pain might- -

"No, he's alive", Darla shook her head. "He was the only Watcher to have survived the attack. You and he are all that's left of the Council."

At that, Angel let out a relieved sigh.

As the realization of Darla's words hit home, Wesley felt his knees start to buckle, and he forced himself to find a nearby chair and slump into it. He truly felt for the first time, like he was trapped in a freefall. He had been banished by his friends, had his throat slit, had the woman he…Lilah…been murdered in his own working place, faced a slew of unimaginable evil over the last few months…but now he felt the first waves of nausea truly begin to grip him.

For years, as a young fledgling Watcher, as early as the days of his "Head Boy"- winning training at the Watcher's Academy in Devonshire, he had been brought up with the ideal that the Council was invincible. Through times of upheaval, through World Wars, through great peril and conquest, though generations of men would fall and cities would be lost…the walls of the Council, he was trained to think, would always stand. Their foundations unshakeable, their presence irreplaceable…their legacy always existing.

And now they were gone…they were all gone…

"How?", he finally croaked out.

"I think we covered that, didn't we?", a rather insensitive Skip smirked. "When something goes 'ka-blooey!', it pretty much stays—"

"Fred, get the sphere and shut that oversized trash can up, would ya?", Gunn snapped.

"Will do", Fred quickly said, standing to get the book.

"No,no,no! I'll be good from now on, I promise!", Skip pleaded.

"This is your last warning," Angel snarled at him. Turning back to his Sire, he calmly said, "Sorry about that. Go on."

Darla sadly continued. "There was an explosion, when they were all in session…they had information on the First. They were debating whether or not to give it to Buffy for use…" She paused for a beat. "Actually, they were more like preparing for a war with the First…every Watcher from around the world- -"

"Around the world?", Wesley looked up, his eyes wide. "There was a **_Code Red-1_** Alert? They were…ALL there?"

Angel recognized Wes's Council-speak. Back when he was Angelus, during his romp in Sunnydale, he had stolen a few copies of Giles's Watcher Diaries. The Diaries contained entries on vampires, monsters, spells, fighting tactics, and Council activities. He recognized **_Code Red-1_** to be the highest level of alert on the Council's defense protocol list. It meant that an event so powerful, so unprecedented had occurred so as to require a meeting, or a calling in of every Watcher, black-op and Council-employed personnel on Earth to the main headquarters in London for an emergency briefing. The demon in him figured it would be good to keep tabs on the Brits…in case he ever wanted to destroy them himself.

"From England to Rome to even Melbourne," Darla said, the left corner of her mouth turned slightly. "They were in the session at their Headquarters when it happened. A bomb exploded in the center of the Boardroom…There were no survivors."

"The First?", Angel asked, the look in his eyes revealing the detective inside him trying to piece all this together.

"Its minions", Darla corrected. "The Harbingers…they compromised the security of the Headquarters somehow…one of them must've planted the bomb."

"They were all wiped out", Wesley breathed heavily, and then looked at Darla with a question that dared not leave his mouth. "They were…ALL there? Every …one of them? Every…last…Watcher?"

Darla knew what he wanted to ask. Although she knew it would cause him unbearable pain, she knew he had to know. "I'm sorry, Wesley", she said softly. "Your father was one of the first to enter the session…I'm truly sorry for your loss."

Fred gasped as she realized what Darla was saying. "Oh, Wesley", she breathed, stunned by the news that one of her closest friends had just suffered an unspeakable tragedy.

Wesley sat there, his gaze lowered to the floor. He said nothing, changed not his expression. But it was clear to everyone what he was feeling. What anyone could be feeling after hearing that news.

Angel knew Wesley had never been close with his father. In fact, the father seemed almost ashamed of him, judging on what he heard and saw of the relationship. But still…it was his father. The man who gave him life. And the man who, as much as Wesley tried to downplay it, deep down, he had always admired. And respected.

Gunn came over and placed a hand on his crest-fallen friend's shoulder. The Watcher looked up, his glasses slightly fogged, at his one-time love rival.

"I'm sorry, man", he said simply, but his voice thick with empathy. Gunn knew what it was like to lose family. All too well. His sister's flashed through his mind.

_Alonna,_ her name flashing through his thoughts, painfully remembering his sister, her sweet smile, her constant jokes. _So young_, he thought. _So young to die so soon_…

Connor spoke up. "He died a noble death, Wesley", he suddenly said. "He died fighting evil. He was a hero. If you want to honor him, we must take up his fight. Don't let his death mean nothing." His mother's earlier pleas rung in his mind as he said this.

All turned to the usually stoic boy, stunned by his words. Connor was never much for talking, and now suddenly, he was a younger, slimmer Winston Churchill-incarnate.

Angel had to force a small smile. This was a side of Connor that he had yet to see. The motivator. The inspiring warrior.

The words had their desired effect. Wesley's eyes became hardened, his jaw set. Suddenly, his legs found new strength, his soul new purpose.

"He's right", Wesley said, standing up. "All other things aside, we have to figure out the connection between the two anomalies. We have to find them…and obliterate them. Both this creature inside Cordelia AND the First Evil."

"We will", Angel said quietly. Raising his voice a tone, he took command. "Fred, get Sunnydale on the phone. Call Willow. Tell her to bring Buffy and the others down here right away. Also, tell Willow to tell Giles to bring any research material, Council or otherwise, he can get his hands on regarding the First or Higher Beings and any prophecies he might have regarding the Tro-Clon."

"Connor, Gunn, keep a close eye on Rust-Bucket over there", he motioned to Skip. "He so much as hiccups, call Fred, get her to do the sphere-thing."

"Can do", Gunn said as he shot a glare at Skip. Connor gave the demon an equally disgusted stare before walking to the weapons cabinet to select a weapon.

He turned to Wesley, suddenly freezing up. How could he expect him to work now, when he just had a large part of his life destroyed to him within a matter of minutes?

"Look, Wes", he began hesitantly. "Um, you don't…if you want…you can take a walk, get your head cleared, or - -"

"I think I'll consult my books", Wesley said, folding his arms. "I'll see if anything with these events are related or connected. Perhaps there's something that I missed in my old research based on last year's pregnancy."

Stiff upper lip. A trademark British tradition. One that Wesley had proudly practiced all his life. And he certainly wasn't about to stop now…no matter the circumstances.

He turned to go, when Darla's hand laid on his bicep. He turned to see the smaller woman's empathic gaze, reaching to him.

"Wesley", she said softly.

His eyes met hers, softening slightly, despite himself. What was it about her that…made him calmer when he should be dying inside? Or that could comfort him, when he would know no such thing?

After a beat, Darla sighed. "You'll be okay", she said simply, smiling comfortingly.

Wesley looked stunned for a moment, before regaining himself. "Y-Yes…th-thank you, Darla." He reached out and gently lowered her hand back to her side. For a moment, he slid his hand down to her own, not holding it entirely, but simply feeling it.

"Thank you…", he trailed off, before turning and returning to his study.

Darla followed his form as he disappeared behind the closing door of the study. She wasn't sure what she was feeling right now…sympathy, yes, but something else. There was something in his eyes, his dark, lonely eyes that made her want to cry, to hold him against her and comfort him…do anything to give him a moment's peace. That, at the very least, was what he deserved.

"Darla?", Angel's voice woke her from her reverie.

He turned to Darla. "You look a bit tired. Maybe you upstairs, get some rest?"

Darla nodded, smiling. "Maybe a quick nap would suffice. I'm still a bit drained from that teleportation spell."

"About that", Angel said, stroking his chin in interest. "How'd you all of a sudden learn magick? You never bothered to use any when we were together, last I recalled."

Darla chuckled. "I'll explain everything once I get a little rest." She crooked her head a tad at the tall vampire. "Unless…you'd like to show me where my room is?….Maybe give us a chance to catch up? "

Angel considered for a moment. After a beat, he relented. "All right, I guess. I'll take you upstairs, then."

All heads turned to the former lovers, some eyebrows raised. Connor gave a most suspicious look to both his father and mother.

Clearly a very awkward moment for the teen.

Angel rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, people, get your minds out of the gutter, will ya? I'm just going up to talk."

"Naked! cough cough", Gunn feigned a cough.

"I heard that, Gunn", Angel growled, before escorting Darla upstairs.

"You don't really think they'll…you know…?" Fred asked the Host while making unusual up-and-down hand gestures.

"Dry their nails?", Lorne smirked.

"You know what I mean", Fred frowned.

Lorne sighed. "Can't tell. Hard to say when it comes to those two."

"They'd better not", Gunn said. "It's them doin' that which got us to this point in the first place."

Little did he know, that the comment he made was taken in by Connor. He knew exactly what Gunn meant.

His birth.

This had all started with him. The Rain of Fire, the sun blocking out, all those innocent people murdered…it was started with the day he came out of Darla. Into the world.

A world which, he thought, neither wanted nor accepted him.

A world in which he could never belong to.

_The world would've been better_, he thought, dejectedly, _if I was never born at all._

* * *

To Be Continued…


	4. Part 3 Revisiting

A/N: Welcome to the latest chapter!

* * *

**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 3 - Revisiting**

* * *

The Story of the Human Race is War

- Winston Churchill

* * *

**1630 Revello Drive - Sunnydale, CA**

**Later that Day**

* * *

"Cross-block! _**Kick**_!"

"YAAH!" the echo of dozens of teenage girls sounded throughout the backyard of the Summers residence.

"Left-block _**COMBO**_!" Kennedy barked, marching along the line of Slayers-in-Training, or Potential Slayers, as she surveyed each individual girl. Examined their weaknesses, and their strengths.

"KY-AAH!" the girls roared back. The Potentials were lined up in rows, girls of many races, and so many different nationalities. England. France. Russia. China. South Africa. Australia. Peru. The Philippines. Tibet. The North American Wilderness. Japan. Iraq. Israel.

Potential Slayers - girls of different cultures, who normally would have never given each other the time of day; who would have grown up hating each other, in some cases even killing each other. They were here, now, though…working side by side.

Training with each other. Eating with each other. Preparing each other for the biggest task of their young adolescent lives: the battle for survival.

For themselves. For the Slayer legacy. For the fate of the world itself.

For total war. Against the ultimate evil.

The First Evil.

"All right, hold it!" Kennedy made a slashing hand signal. Immediately, the other girls ceased their actions, and fell into a military-like attention stance.

Kennedy walked up to one of the S-i-Ts, an Irish girl named Sandra, and crinkled her nose in disgust. "You call that training, Potential? That combo was weak!" Kennedy shouted into the stoic face of the younger girl, who was perhaps no older than fifteen.

"Ma'am! Sorry, ma'am!" the younger girl shouted back, her Irish brogue coloring her voice. "Me foot's fallen asleep from the angle I slept in last night, ma'am!"

Kennedy, nodding her head, smirked. "Oh, I see…do you know the kind of angle you sleep in when you die, Potential?"

"No, ma'am!" the younger girl barked back, her voice sounding slightly confused.

"Doesn't matter…'cause you're _**DEAD**_!" Kennedy yelled, leaning into Sandra's face. "We're not here to kiss your boo-boo! We're here to train for _**WAR**_!

"If you hurt, TRAIN HURT! If you're scared, TRAIN SCARED! If you're tired, TRAIN TIRED! If I _**EVER**_ see you do another half-assed combo like that again, I will personally bury my foot SO far up your ass, your CHILDREN will be born tasting sneakers!"

The younger girl gulped, nervously, yet remained with her stoic face. "Yes ma'am! Sorry, ma'am! Won't happen again, ma'am!"

Kennedy returned to the head of the group. "All right! The rest of you, pair off with your usual partners. Exercise Number 657, Block-Roundhouse-elbow smash-arm throw! And I better see some DAMN good executions, or there's gonna be some MAJOR ass-kicking!"

The girls quickly formed into their pairs and began the exercises. Not far away at the Summers porch, Willow sat there, next to her new compatriot.

"So, whaddaya think?" the redhead asked. "Every S-i-T from around the world is holed up here in casa del Summers."

Faith sat there, looking pensive, taking in the scene before her. "Hmm."

"Hmm?" Willow echoed. "Is that a 'wow, we got a great army' hmm, or 'this-is-the-saddest-group-of-little-girls-I've-ever-seen' hmm?"

"More like a 'what-the-hell-are-those-girls-going-through?' hmm," Faith said. "Boy. This First guy must've really stuck it to you people, huh?"

"Well, technically, the First Evil doesn't have a gender," Willow sighed. "But yeah, the last six months have been pretty rough. Not just for those girls, for all of us."

"I can relate," the dark-haired Slayer nodded, thinking back to her actions in LA just a few days earlier.

Willow smiled teasingly. "Yeah, well, considering that up until a week ago, you were locked up in a maximum security prison while we've been fighting the ultimate Big Bad this whole time, I'd say you got off easy, little lady."

"Screw off, Rosenberg," Faith jokingly replied. "At least _**you**_ haven't been thrown around by a giant walking, talking, horn-headed demonic slag-heap 'til your ribs broke, THEN gotten the living hell beat out of you by the psycho vampire alter-ego of your best friend, THEN had to fight for your life in a drug-induced mental mindwalk in said best friend's mind, while your Jiminy Cricket is said best friend's psycho vampire alter-ego. All in just the first hundred hours of freedom."

"Still think you got off easy," Willow chuckled.

It had surprised Willow how easily she had bonded with Faith in the long drive back to Sunnydale. Because all things considered, the former rogue Slayer and the powerful witch had never had a good relationship.

Especially considering how Faith had slept with Willow's life-long crush, Xander, and sided with the Mayor before and after his Ascension, not to mention stealing Buffy's body when she came out of an eight-month coma…and, of course, there was that whole bit where Faith had held a knife to Willow's throat and threatened to kill her, not the kind a thing a girl forgets.

But they had both convened in LA with a common goal: to save their friend Angel's soul and defeat his murderous alter-ego, Angelus. Coupled with the fact that they had a common enemy in the First, and that it had been three years since they last saw each other, the car had been a chatter-box all the way back to the Hellmouth.

Willow clearly saw that Faith had changed. Gone was the sleazy, care-free, hump-anything-that-walks vixen she remembered from high school. Well, more or less, anyway. Instead, she was calmer, less cocky, more sensitive to feelings…hell, Willow was even starting to like the Boston girl.

"Still," Faith returned her gaze back to the Potentials. "I'm getting the idea why B's über-freaked." She paused, looking out towards the sea of teenage Potentials. "Those girls look scared, Red. And if this thing's really trying to get rid of the Slayer sisterhood like you said, then they're gonna have to get _real_ good, _real_ fast."

"Buffy's theme of the day," Willow sighed. "Well, it'll get better. Now that you're here. I mean, I know you had that whole bit when you were, y'know, evil, but you're still a good fighter. A great fighter. I mean, you took down Angelus…_and_ Angel's son, Connor. Not bad for someone who's been incarcerated for three years, huh?"

"Willow, what do ya think I've been doing in jail all this time? Sitting on my well-toned ass and baking cookies?" Faith asked incredulously. "Let me tell you…all of that stuff you've heard about women's prisons? All that crap on 'Oz' that they show on HBO? Add that, plus a couple of special knife weapons, and you'll be closer to the truth."

"Everything?" Willow's voice teemed with curiosity. There was a question that played on her lips. "So…in the shower…?"

"_**Big**_ time," Faith snorted. "The first few weeks I was there, every lesbo and mullet-head was trying to make a fish diet outta me…had to put about ten of 'em in the Emergency Room before everyone else got the point that I was off the menu."

"Wow," Willow whistled. "Remind me never to hit on _you_."

"Not unless you want to get hit on," Faith smirked playfully.

Both girls chuckled, then paused, realizing the double-entendre of that last comment. Both shook their heads quickly.

"Wait, back up a second. Special knife weapons?" Willow raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Faith shrugged. "Some burly bitch named Deb tried to off me the day before I escaped. First time that's happened in a while…she snuck in some weirdo fancy knife. Not just any old knife, either. It had a gold handle, some rubies on it…looked pretty expensive."

Willow's inner alarm went off immediately. "Wait a minute," she said, opening up her palm, facing Faith. "The knife…did it look anything like this?"

As she said this, an image magically appeared in the Wiccan's palm. An image of a sharp, curved knife with a golden handle and rubies adorning the sides.

Faith's eyes widened. "That's it! Damn, Red, how did you know that?"

Willow sighed. "Uh, Faith, it looks like the First targeted you after all. That knife this 'Deb' person used…it's the exact same one the Bringers use."

Faith's eyes narrowed, realizing the implication of the statement. "So the First _did_ try to off me," she mused quietly, feeling rather annoyed that no one had bothered to warn her that she might be a target.

"Like a burned out light switch," Willow said. "Yeah, uh, we should have warned you, I guess? Sorry. B-but…at least you made it here okay…unlike some Potentials who…weren't quite so lucky."

"It should have chosen someone better to finish me off," Faith said, maintaining a calm face, but a gleam in her eyes indicating smoldering rage. "'Cause now that I'm here…I'm gonna kick its incorporeal ass all the way back to where it came from."

"Assuming we ever find out where that might be," Willow sighed again.

"We'll find out," Faith said, a hint of optimism creeping into her voice. "And _when_ we do…" she trailed off, gently pounding her left fist into the open palm of her right hand.

"You'll go all 'Chosen One' on its ass?" Willow smiled impishly.

"Like it was an overweight vamp with a limp," Faith nodded. "Say, I'm kinda thirsty. There anything to drink in the fridge?"

"There's soda, enough water to last for a year…oh! And we have some fruit punch squished in the back," Willow replied. "Help yourself."

"Will do," Faith nodded, standing up. "You sure the others aren't back yet?"

"Yeah. But they'll be back soon, though," Willow said. "Faith...watch yourself, okay? I'd rather you be with me when I explain that you're…you know…not in jail anymore, and you've come here to help us fight the First. In retrospect, it probably woulda been a better idea to let Buffy know where I was going and, uh, who I was bringing back..."

Faith wryly grinned. "Works in theory, Red. You want anything to drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm good," Willow smiled.

"No, Red. You're the best," Faith winked, before disappearing inside.

Willow barely had time to grin at Faith's unexpected compliment, before a girl's wailing called her attention back to the training Potentials.

"That's what happens when you don't move FAST enough, maggot!" Kennedy snarled. She stood over the fallen body of a quivering Potential, clutching her stomach on the ground in obvious pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sooo sorry, I'll do it better next time -"

Her sentence was cut off as Kennedy blasted her foot into the girl's stomach, making her squeal in pain and fright.

"What makes you think you'll GET a next time, Potential?" Kennedy barked down on her. "You try that in the field, and you're DEAD! You DON'T get second chances to do it RIGHT!"

Molly, the British Potential, spoke up, feeling concerned about the beating one of her peers was taking. "Kennedy, don't you think you're being a bit hard on her? I mean, this is verging on being barbaric -"

"SHUT UP!" Kennedy whirled on the pretty Slayer-in-Training. "You just focus on your exercise, Molly! And that had better be the last time you EVER address me by name while you're training!"

Rona had had just about enough. "Chill out, Kennedy!" the black Potential spoke up. "She wasn't even that slow to begin with. I get that you're in charge of the workouts, but you don't have the right to -"

"When I'm training the rest of you PISSANTS, I have the right to do whatever the hell I want!" Kennedy glowered at her fellow Potential. "You've got something to say about that, Rona?"

"Yeah, maybe I do," the dark-skinned girl stared back, unflinchingly, at the taller girl.

KR-AACK!

Rona crumpled like a sack of dead leaves onto the ground, clutching her jaw. The other girls gasped in horror as Kennedy cracked her knuckles, scowling over the black girl.

"That change your perspective?" Kennedy demanded.

"Kennedy! What the hell are you doing?" Willow asked, aghast at her girlfriend's behavior. "You're taking this way too far -"

"Stay out of this, Willow!" Kennedy snapped back at the object of her affections. "Just because we're dating now DOESN'T mean you can just stick your nose in business that doesn't concern you! This is Slayer business!"

Willow flinched at the harshness of the comment, obviously hurt.

Kennedy turned back to the rest of the Potentials. "Anyone else? Huh?" she challenged them, her fists up ready for an attack. "Anyone of you sorry bunch of pansy-asses think you can take me? C'MON! Speak UP, already!"

"Speaking," a female voice drawled from behind her.

Kennedy turned to find a girl she had never seen before standing near the porch, on the steps, just a notch or two below where Willow was standing. Dark hair, tight black leather pants, burgundy red top and a black jean jacket were her attire. Her arms were folded against her chest, but she casually leaned against the pillar of the porch. And the glint in her eyes displayed a sort of cockiness that could be almost intimidating.

"Who the hell are you?" Kennedy spat out in disgust.

Willow opened her mouth to tell her, but Faith shot her a look and shook her head. Getting the message, Willow closed her mouth and stayed silent.

"Not a pansy-ass, that's for sure, cherry," Faith said in a lazy drawl.

"What did you just call me?" the 19-year-old girl asked as she stepped forward, her fists balled at her sides.

Faith chuckled, shaking her head, clearly unimpressed. "Listen, uh…Kennedy, right? You might want to ease up on the attitude here, you know? I mean, look at 'em. You got those girls so scared they probably can't even pee right."

Kennedy's eyes narrowed. "I don't know who you are, or who in the hell you _**think**_ you are, but I'm not taking instructions on how to run my training sessions from some leather-clad slut who couldn't find her street corner to work at!"

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Slut, huh?" she said, her voice still with that laid-back South Boston twang. "Well, you know where I come from…we've got a saying. 'One rotten apple spoils the bunch. Two rotten apples…and the picker's the rotten one'."

Kennedy's eyes widened in anger. "You got something to say to -"

"Just said it, sweet thang," Faith smirked.

Willow finally moved to break up the potential brawl between the two alpha females. "Hey, hey, hey!" the redhead interjected with a pleading look on her face. "Guys, come on, I-I-I mean…Kennedy, I'm sure that Faith was just offering some constructive, albeit slightly instigative, criticism. I mean, we all want to make these girls bet -"

"_Faith_?" Kennedy scoffed, interrupting. "What kind of granola-crunching, New Age crappy name is that? What, were Moonbeam and Charity taken already?"

Faith still didn't alter that lazy grin she'd managed to perfect over time. "Ooooh! We got us a wildcat on our hands here, Will." She took a step closer to the younger, slightly taller girl. "But you know what they say, hot stuff…."

Faith stopped only when she got within a hair's breath of Kennedy. "Don't go talkin' the talk if you can't be walkin' the walk."

"You want a piece of me, skankwad?" Kennedy's voice gained an edge.

"Hell, yeah…_**rookie**_," Faith emphasized the last part with as much irritating arrogance as she could muster.

Kennedy saw red. "Rookie, huh?" And then she lashed out with a strong punch at Faith's face…

…who simply ducked out of the way with effortless ease.

"C'mon, K! I've seen _one-armed_ vamps punch faster than that!" Faith snorted.

Kennedy responded by throwing another punch, with the same useless result. Kennedy moved towards the Slayer, throwing a series of punches, jabs, uppercuts, cross-kicks, back kicks, sidekicks and roundhouse kicks. Faith nimbly avoided every attempt at physical attack, her grin never leaving her face.

The other Potentials watched in awe as this new girl, someone whom none of them had ever seen before, held her own, and maybe more so, against their trainer, the strongest of all the Potential Slayers.

Letting out a frustrated cry, the hot-headed S-i-T launched herself at Faith with a flying kick aimed right at the Slayer's head. Faith effortlessly ducked under it, resulting in Kennedy's foot connecting with…

…the bark of the big tree rooted in the Summers backyard.

Kennedy's foot was deeply lodged into the tree. Her eyes widened in surprise and her face reddened with embarrassment as she budged and pulled at her foot, attempting to get it free from the bark.

Faith casually leaned against the tree, chuckling. "Way to go there, rookie. That tree never knew what hit it! Ever consider a career as a lumberjack? I'd bet you'd really be a terror up in the Great White North -"

Kennedy grunted angrily as she dislodged her foot and resumed her fast-paced, but futile attack on the more experienced, powerful Faith.

Willow shook her head in embarrassment for Kennedy. Her girlfriend honestly didn't know who and what she was up against. When at the top of her game, Faith could tangle with the best of them - Buffy, Angel, even the Beast - and have a shot at winning. As good as Kennedy was for her age, there was a reason why she was a _**Potential**_ Slayer…and why Faith was _**The**_ Slayer.

The younger girl began to slow down, obviously getting tired keeping up with Faith's high-energy pace. Eventually Kennedy tried a backhanded forearm, which Faith caught with one hand.

"My turn, now," Faith grinned wickedly.

She gave a swift kick to the girl's left kneecap, causing Kennedy to cry out in pain. Faith followed up with a quick twist of the girl's right arm she'd blocked, bending it back - not enough to break it, but enough to cause Kennedy uncomfortable pain. Faith then sent two hard, swift roundhouse kicks to the girl's stomach and upper torso before flipping Kennedy onto her back.

Kennedy was obviously dazed, Faith noted. "Maybe you oughta think about calling it a day, huh, K?"

Kennedy flipped up on her feet, and threw a wild sidekick at the girl. Faith caught it, again. "Girl's got spunk -"

And then she swept the other leg out from under her, knocking the Potential back down, groaning in pain.

"But not a lotta brains," Faith shrugged.

No sooner had the words left her mouth, than a powerful blow smashed across her face, crumpling the curvaceous brunette Slayer to the ground.

Faith shook her head quickly, before looking up at her attacker. When she saw who it was, all she could do was smirk.

"Hey, B," Faith grinned slyly, wiping a trickle of blood away from her nose. "Been a long time."

Above her, standing with her arms folded across her chest, stood an intimidating, scowling Buffy Summers. Faith made a mental note as to how Buffy still had a killer fashion sense. Decked out in her gray silk shirt, tight black jeans and platforms, Buffy had a look easily made for either "Bronzing it" with her friends, or patrolling for vamps.

"For some of us, maybe," the blonde Slayer said dangerously.

The two former foes stared at each other from their respective positions for a while, a number of expressions passing across the blonde's face before she turned to face Willow; and upon seeing the redhead's expression of combined guilt and apprehension, Buffy rolled her eyes, made an educated guess and then extended her hand to Faith. The dark-haired Slayer accepted with ease.

"Well, it's nice to see you started off the same way you did in Sunnydale the last time," Buffy sardonically told her sister Slayer. "Causing fights and leaving a mess in your wake. In MY house. _Again_." The Slayer's eyes slid to the busted open tree trunk.

"Hey, hey, I didn't actually start anything," Faith raised her hands defensively. "G.I. Jane here attacked me."

"That is SO not true!" Kennedy said, lifting herself off the grass, clutching the small of her back. "She started it, Buffy! She came after me! Willow can back me up, she saw everything!"

All eyes turned to Willow, whose expression resembled something of a deer trapped in headlights. "Huh?" she squeaked out.

"Willow? Is that true?" Buffy looked to her best friend for the deciding vote.

Willow's mouth curved up into the right corner. She had her 'thoughtful face' on. She had learned how to perfect many faces over the years. Like her 'resolve face' and her 'cranky face'.

"Well, uh…you DID kinda throw the first punch, Kennedy," Willow said hesitantly. "Not to mention your beating up on the trainees..."

"Willow!" Kennedy exclaimed, shocked.

"Told ya," Faith smiled.

Buffy sighed. "Okay, whatever. Can we please NOT smash any more things on my property while we're preparing for the ultimate battle?"

"Buffy, are you just going to let some Potential slut-bag walk in here and treat me like that?" Kennedy demanded hot-headedly.

Buffy and Faith exchanged a look with each other, before both started snickering slightly. Kennedy was confused as to what they found to be so amusing, while she was aching all over.

"What the hell is so funny?" demanded the irritated Potential.

"Look, Kennedy? Next time you try starting a fight with someone - first off, make sure she's _not_ a Slayer," Buffy snorted.

Kennedy's jaw dropped and her eyes looked like they were ready to pop out of their sockets. She did a very good impersonation of a fish out of water, actually.

"A Slay…d-d-did you just say -" the normally bold girl stammered.

"Yeah, Potential. As in Slayer, comma, THE," Faith smirked.

The other Potentials let out a gasp and murmurs ran through the crowd of underage girls.

"No, no way," Kennedy shook her head in denial. "There is no way in hell this piece of…this trailer-park white trash can be a Slayer!"

Buffy stepped closer to Kennedy, her grin instantly gone and her taking-care-of-business face slipped on. Kennedy had to gulp at the expression on Buffy's face.

"Faith and I aren't exactly friends, not anymore. But whatever she may have done in the past, she's still one of the Chosen crowd, just like me. So I strongly suggest you NEVER address a Slayer like that again…_Potential_," Buffy said, her voice hard like tempered steel.

"Listen carefully, Kennedy. You're not in charge here; _I_ am. You're only in charge of training the Potentials, and even _that's_ only until I say otherwise. I'm all for you helping out….but don't think for one second that I'm going to take any attitude from you. I didn't take it from the Council, and I'm certainly not going to take it from some girl who I could beat the crap out of just as easily as any vamp I meet at night," Buffy said in a no-nonsense tone.

"But I -"

"I'm still talking!" Buffy snapped, cutting her off. "Because I didn't appreciate how you stood up and said your piece the other night…about me being out of line? When I was addressing everyone to raise their game, after Chloe killed herself? Plus you tangling with Faith - maybe you don't get how close you came to a humiliating ass-kicking...but you _should._"

Kennedy stared back at her, still defiant but acknowledging someone else now had the power in this situation. Buffy continued, "The only one out of line here is you, Kennedy. Beating up your trainees? Mouthing off to me? Insulting someone you just met, and don't even know? All that stops right here, right now. You're in serious need of a reality check. And here it comes."

Kennedy looked on, listening intently, but her voice betraying nervousness. "What do you mean? What are you saying, exactly?"

"That I want you to focus more on your own training. You're the strongest of the girls here. Which is why you need to start developing faster, if I'm going to be able to count on you in battle." Buffy sighed. "Effective at the end of this session, you are no longer in charge of training the Potentials."

Kennedy took a step back, shocked. "Wh-_what_? You, you can't -"

"Can. Did." Buffy's tone of voice left no tone for argument. She glanced at Faith, and seemed to be satisfied with what she saw there. Turning back to Kennedy the senior Slayer said, "As good as you've gotten these girls, Kennedy, it's not enough. Not for what we're going up against. I need you, ALL of you, to start taking the training up to the next level. Which means I need someone else to train you and the rest. Someone with more experience. Someone who's a REAL Slayer."

"You?" Kennedy asked, her voice starting to thicken with hurt.

"Not me," Buffy shook her head. "I've got too much else happening right now, too many other things to do and prepare for."

Kennedy's eyes widened and she emphatically shook her head. "No…no, no, no, no, NO! Buffy, you're not gonna -"

But the elder Slayer was way ahead of her. "_Everyone_!" Buffy announced to the rest of the girls, who stood at attention. "I'd like you to meet your new trainer…" She turned to her sister Slayer. "Faith. The Vampire Slayer."

Faith stood there, speechless, as all eyes were trained to her. The brunette took a moment, surveyed the crowd, before grinning and saying the only thing she could thing to say at the moment.

"Wicked."

And despite knowing that Kennedy would freak out later on when they were alone, Willow couldn't help but to shake her head and smile.

* * *

Training had finished early for the day, it was decided. Afterwards Buffy, Willow, and Faith entered the kitchen of the Summers home, where Xander was busy making sandwiches for himself and Dawn.

Needless to say, when he saw Faith, Harris dropped the sandwich in shock.

"Faith. FAITH! Buffy, look out! Faith's escaped from jail!" he tried to warn his hero.

"You can relax, Xander," Willow chuckled nervously. "She's, uh…Faith's on our side now."

Harris blinked. "Really? Gosh, switching sides again?" Xander suddenly sneered, placing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Well, that makes me feel so much better. But hey, Faith, do me a favor? When you decide to go evil again, drop me a memo or something so that I know to lock my doors at night."

"Aw, gee. There was a time you didn't complain about being alone with me, boy-toy," Faith drawled, a seductive tone in her voice. "Even if it was only for around seven minutes or so."

Xander's face reddened and he scooped up the sandwich he'd dropped, nervously taking a big, Shaggy-sized bite of his sandwich. There was nothing he could say that would help there, and he knew it.

Buffy turned back to Faith. "What are you doing here, Faith?"

Faith raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Uh…helping you out?"

"You're supposed to be in prison," Buffy pointed out, her voice even. "Somehow, I'm thinking Stockton Penitentiary didn't just decide to let you out for a leisurely stroll around town and some rasslin', while you're serving twenty-five-to-life for Murder Two."

"Alright, okay, so I had to bail," Faith sighed, before quickly adding, "But it was only because Angel needed my help."

Buffy's eyes widened at the name. Even just the mention of her ex-lover's name could make her heart start pounding a little quicker, her skin a little warmer.

"A-Angel?" she asked, stunned. "He's in trouble?"

"_**Was**_ in trouble," Willow said quickly and reassuringly. "Faith…I…_we_ helped him out."

Confusion set on Buffy's face, and then it hit her. "LA. That's where you went two days ago." Her face soured. "Thanks for telling me about that, by the way. Way to keep me informed, Will!"

Willow fought the urge to cringe. "Well, I-I know that it was wrong, and-and that it goes completely against the first commandment in the Code-of-Best-Friends Handbook - but you said it yourself, Buffy. This is war time. You have to be focused. And we both know if I'd told you that Angel was in trouble, the first thing that you would've done was go to him. Leaving everyone here wide open for an attack by the Bringers."

Buffy took all of this in, and reluctantly nodded. She hated to admit it, but Willow was right. That would have been her first impulse. Whenever Angel was mentioned, even after all this time, she still had a tendency to get loopy. It was like Kendra had told her years ago: concern for Angel clouded her judgment.

"Is he…okay?" Buffy asked slowly.

Faith responded, "Angel? He's fine. He says 'hey'."

"Really?" Buffy felt a small smile appear on her lips.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Great. First Faith shows up, now greetings from Dead Boy. Add in all the insults from Anya, and it's just makin' this my best day ever!"

Ignoring him, Buffy turned back to Faith. "Look, Faith. It's not that I don't want you here…" Then Buffy rethought that statement. "Well, actually, I don't, but that's beside the issue. Now that you're here, we've got this whole other problem on our hands. You're an escaped convict. If the police come barging in here, find you holed up with a bunch of girls with _weapons_ all over the place? Not going to go well. Especially for _me_."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Buffy," Willow said far too easily and quickly.

The blonde Slayer turned to her best friend. "Why's that, Will?" she asked suspiciously.

Willow fidgeted a little, something she did when she was nervous. Or when she _knew_ she'd done something wrong. "W-w-well, I sorta…kinda…hacked into the Sunnydale and LA police department computers, deleted all their records on Faith and destroyed her file at Stockton as well, before we headed back to town. Angel gave me the names of some people who'll take care of the paper trail, too."

"_WHAT_?" Xander and Buffy exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah," Faith chortled. "Free as a bird, people. And loving it."

"Great googley-moogley, Willow, have you gone insane?" Xander blurted out. "You just gave Psycho Slayer a get-out-of-jail-free card!"

"Willow, what were you thinking?" Buffy disbelievingly asked.

"I was thinking - that we need her. And that that's more important than paying her debt to society," Willow said, her resolved face on. "Buffy, Faith helped Angel out of a serious jam. She even saved his life, and almost got killed while she was doing it! And besides, if we want to take the First Evil out of commission, if we want to survive, we need the best warriors we can get. And Faith is one of the best there is!"

Willow paused, before saying, "Look, Buff, I know you have issues with Faith, and rightfully so, hell, so do I…but that doesn't matter now. We're fighting for our lives here. So, if you have problems with this, you're-you're just going to have to deal with them, face them. We need her, Buffy." Willow looked outside to the rest of the girls, who were idly standing around, chatting. "_**They**_ need her."

"For what? Lessons on how to get strangled, if they turn up at her hotel room at the wrong time?" Xander's voice was dark and cold, as he glared at Faith.

Buffy noticed Faith look away at that, she too was reminded of that night when everything had gone so terribly wrong. "Now's not the best time for us to get into that, Xander -"

"If not now, then when? 'Cause some of us don't have Slayer strength to defend ourselves, Buffy," Xander insisted, before he relented at the look the blonde was sending him. "Alright, look, I trust your judgment - if you think she should stay, then that's good enough for me. Just think about it real carefully, okay?"

Buffy stared at Xander, then Willow for a moment, and then Faith. After a short time to digest everything that had just happened, she nodded.

"Fine," Buffy said. "You can stay, Faith. But, you're on a very short leash. You have almost no leash. You mess up just once, you give me ANY reason to think I can't trust you under the same roof as my family, friends and the Potentials…and you're out faster than Mariah Carey's last album."

Faith nodded. "Hey, don't sweat it, B. I'm one of the good guys now."

"For now," Xander snidely tossed at her.

A flip-flop of tennis sneakers preceded Dawn's entrance into the kitchen. "Hey, Xander, where's my sandwich? I haven't eaten anything in -"

She stopped when she noticed Faith standing in the kitchen, opposite her sister.

"_Faith_?" the female teen exclaimed. "Buffy, _look out_! It's _Faith_! _She's escaped_!"

Buffy turned towards her younger sister. "I know, Dawnie. It's - complicated. Uh, I guess Faith is…going to be staying with us for a while..."

Dawn looked like she was going to explode. "WHAT? Buffy, are you high on crack or something? She can't stay here! Or need I remind you that the last time Faith came to our house, she tried to, oh, I don't know…_**kill me AND Mom**_!"

"I know," Buffy said, her memories adjusted from the truth of what had really happened back then, just like everyone else's. "I know. But we need all the help we can get, Dawn. You know that. Besides, Faith knows she's on a short leash. Right?" She gave a poignant stare to the dark-haired Slayer. "Promise to behave?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," Faith recited the schoolyard promise.

"You're not the only one," Dawn sarcastically spat at her.

"Well, check it out; the brat's all woman-sized, now, huh?" Faith grinned. "Man, I have been away too long."

Dawn stared at Faith for a moment, before turning back to Buffy. "I really hope you know what you're doing, Buffy." She sent one last icy look at Faith before leaving the room.

Shrugging off the awkward feeling creeping up on her, Faith let out a small whistle. "Guess Dawnie's not on the welcome-home wagon, huh?"

"Wagon? There's a welcome wagon? Where?" Xander spat out one last parting shot, before exiting the kitchen with his sandwich in hand.

Willow was quick to try and smooth things over. "They'll come around, Faith. They, uh, just need some time to adjust and get to know the new and improved, non-homicidal you."

Faith sighed, a trace of sadness in her eyes. "How about twenty-five-to-life? That enough time, you think?"

"Well, maybe with good behavior?" Willow smiled brightly. And Faith's amused chuckle came right back on her face.

At the same moment, Andrew entered the room, stopping short when he saw Faith.

"Willow, there's a…wow…heh, you're pretty," the blonde geek almost stammered incomprehensibly.

Faith looked at Buffy, who shrugged. "That's Andrew. You'll get used to him. Or not. Take your pick."

After a few moments, when the girls noted that Andrew wouldn't stop staring at Faith, Willow took the initiative. "Andrew? You had a message for me or something?"

"Huh?" Andrew finally snapped out of his daze. "Oh…oh, yeah! That Fred guy is on the phone again. Said it's urgent."

Willow's eyes widened and looked to Faith, before quickly nodding. "Oh…OH! Fred. Right. I got it. Thanks, Andrew."

"Could you take him with you?" Buffy pointed at the sci-fi nerd.

Willow rolled her eyes and dragged Andrew out of the room, while he whimpered at being taken away from the vision of loveliness that was Faith.

Faith turned to Buffy, the smirk gone, her face totally serious. "Look, B, I don't want to be causing any more tension around here. God knows you have enough of _that_ to deal with, so I can just be on my way -"

"_No_." Buffy shook her head, sighing. "No, it's…just a little unexpected that you popped in here when you did. But…I'm okay with the fact that you're here, Faith. It's…okay."

"Good," Faith said, turning up a smile. "By the way, you look great. Nice to know the years have been good to some of us."

"If only by looks," Buffy said dryly. "Aside from my mom dying, ME dying, working crappy minimum wage jobs until I got lucky with the high school counselor gig, and losing several friends in the last few years, yeah, everything's peachy."

"Well, look at it this way - things can only get better," Faith offered. "God knows it couldn't get much worse than it's been over these last few weeks, with that Permanent Midnight thing in LA."

Buffy sighed. "Yeah, well, I hope not. If there's one thing I'm not up for right now, it's more surprises."

As if on cue, Willow re-entered the room. She had on a very grave face.

"Willow?" Buffy asked, noting her friend's look. She took a step closer. "Will, what's wrong?"

"Buffy…I was just on the phone with Fred."

"Who's this Fred guy?" Buffy wondered, recalling what Andrew had said just now.

"Nah, Fred - it's short for Winifred. She's a friend of Angel's. In LA," Faith explained.

Buffy's face morphed from concern to slight panic. "Angel? I-is he okay?"

"No. Buffy, Faith, we need to gather the others. Dawn, Giles, Anya, Spike, Xander, all the Potentials. We need to go to LA. _Now_."

"_What_?" Buffy demanded.

"Willow, what's happened to Angel?" Faith asked, the worry written all over her face.

The Wiccan's eyes locked with Buffy's. "Fred said something about…the End of Days. That it's coming. No, that it's practically _here_ already. And it concerns what's been happening here in Sunnydale."

The look in the blonde Slayer's eyes was filled with dread, and understanding. So with that, she proceeded to do what she did best in times like these. Take command.

"All right. Willow, find Spike. Tell him to get dressed and get that Winnebago we used way back when, ASAP. Faith, round up the Potentials in the living room, tell them I've called an emergency meeting. I want everyone ready to go, and I want it five minutes ago."

"I've already notified Giles," Willow said. "He's grabbing all his research and magic stuff and putting it in his car. Xander, Andrew and Dawn will take care of loading the van with supplies, weapons, the whole nine yards."

"Good. That leaves us my car and Xander's. But that won't be enough to transport thirty-odd Potentials between them -"

"Ooh! Why not contact Principal Wood?" Willow suggested. "He's got access to some school transportation, like the school district bus. Maybe he can lend it to us. That should be enough to hold the rest of the girls."

Buffy smiled at Willow. "Good idea. Thanks, Will."

"Looks like we're road-trippin', huh, B?" Faith said lazily, rotating her neck muscles.

"Looks like," Buffy said absently, as she exited the room. But she could feel something in the pit of her stomach nagging at her. She could feel it. The same exact feeling she'd gotten in her stomach, right before her final battle with Glory. A terrifying feeling that somehow, the worst was yet to come, that she hadn't even begun to fight yet…

That the End was near…and it was nearer than she thought.

But at least this time, she had Angel waiting for her on the other side. She just had to make it to Los Angeles.

Buffy suddenly raised an eyebrow at that. She didn't know what was more terrifying…going down to LA to face the apocalypse…or going to face the one being on Earth she loved more than anything she would ever love in this life…

_God, isn't being the Slayer great?_ Buffy mused sarcastically to herself.

TBC…


	5. Part 4 Out of the Blue

A/N – Thanks for the feedback so far, guys! However, a lot's been going on in my life lately (mother in hospital, impending grades, ect.) and I have a worry that all this might give me writer's block. But fear not! I've been dreaming this fic day and night, perfecting it, and I will not rest until this tale has been told. Any suggestions you guys have on the next few chapters can and will be listened to. If there's some character, aspect, or angle you think I'm ignoring, please let me know. So, review, please!

* * *

Part 4- Out of the blue

* * *

"So, it's all set, then?", Fred asked through the telephone, twirling the cord nervously.

"Great! Of course, I'm sure you guys don't need directions, seeing as how you managed to find your way here a couple times", she continued. "But just in case, call up the hotline. We'll give you directions in a jiffy. Hope to see you soon. Bye, Willow."

She hung up the phone with a giddy click.

Lorne smiled at her, knowingly. "Excited about our little Sabrina popping back in, aren't ya, Sweet Potato?"

"Isn't Willow the best?", the physicist gushed. "I mean, gosh, she's so smart, and funny, and she knows all those cool magic tricks…oh, and she's a science buff, just like me!"

"Wow", Lorne whistled. "Something tells me if she were of the less feminine sex, you'd be ga-ga over Strawberry Red. At least, more so than now."

Gunn scowled at that thought, briefly, and went back to polishing his axe. "Isn't anybody wondering what Angel and Darla are talkin' about up there?", he asked. "They've been gone a bit too long for it to be just chit-chat."

"You don't really think they'd be doing anything more than that, do you?", Fred asked,

"Of course not", Lorne brushed off the thought. "Darla looked way tired from all that mojo she used to get here to be getting her freak on. Besides, Angel said they were just gonna talk, so let's leave it at that."

"What in the hell could those two _possibly_ be talking about?", Gunn mused.

"Gee, I don't know", Skip chimed in, sarcastically. "How 'bout, 'Hey, Darla. How's it going. By the way, nice of you to drop in from Heaven and mysteriously learn magic tricks. Oh, and by the way, thanks for ramming a piece of wood through your heart to give birth to the snot-nosed punk that buried my ass in the sea for three months. That was just gosh-darn swell!'"

"Ain't nobody talking to you, Rusty", Gunn glared at the demon, clutching his axe menacingly.

"Oh, come on. You don't honestly believe that all that tension between them just dissipated, do you?", he said, smirking arrogantly. "She sired him! Traveled with each other for 150 years, did the nasty every way you can conceive of…she bore him a son, for Pete's sake! What they're doing up there right now…. making civil conversation?"

* * *

Angel sat on the chair, opposite Darla. She had taken her seat on the bed. 

He sat there, wringing his hands, looking at his Sire with some anxiousness. Darla almost chuckled at the look on her Childe's face. She'd never known Angel, or Angelus, for that matter, to be nervous around her. Angry, aroused, intrigued, excited, sure…but nervous was a new one.

Darla looked around the room and let out a sigh. "At least you changed the sheets."

Angel looked up, confused. "Huh?"

Darla arched an eyebrow at him. "You mean you don't remember what happened the last time we were in this room?"

Angel's eyes shot open in realization. "The night we…"

"Yeah…", Darla smiled, almost shyly. Now she surprised Angel. If there was one thing he'd never known Darla for, it was to be bashful. And yet here she was, alive and well and blushing at the thought of being in the same room with him as on the night they conceived Connor." I'm surprised that slipped your mind."

"I, um…never got into this room much, since the night I led you here", Angel admitted.

"'Led' me? You led me here?", Darla's eyebrows arched in surprise.

"I sensed you following me back that night", Angel sighed, recalling one of the worst and also best nights of his life. "I guess I was just so pissed off after the whole Wolfram & Hart thing, I couldn't take it anymore…I felt you close. All night. And I pretty much decided what I was going to do then…so I chose this room." His dark, brown eyes met Darla's blue ones, an ancient memory flickering through them. "You always _did_ like a room with a view."

Darla managed to suppress a gasp that nearly escaped her in surprise. Her gaze ticked from Angel's to the balcony doors that led outside. Where Angel almost lost his soul. Gasping, fighting, stumbling about. She could remember the look of horror on his face when he thought that the demon was breaking through. No doubt, in her mind, that Angelus had tried to do that, from within, fight his bondage inside, tear at the restraints that bound the monster within….but ultimately lost. Because it wasn't enough to release the animal within Angel.

It wasn't perfect happiness. It was despair.

A despair that brought forth Darla's beautiful baby boy into the world.

"You never cease to amaze me", she smiled at the tall vampire. "Soul or no soul."

"Said the woman who came back from the dead not once, not twice, but three times", Angel smirked. "You competing with Buffy for the Lazarus award or something?"

"Speaking of which", Darla sighed, looking at him directly in the eyes. "How _is_ Buffy?"

Angel was caught off guard by the question. "Fine, I suppose. Why?"

"You 'suppose'?", Darla asked, shaking her head slightly. "Have you been keeping track of her at all?"

"Well, sometimes things happen", Angel said, an edge of bitterness starting to creep into his voice. " Like being stuck at the bottom of the sea for _three months_, dealing with a son who pretty much despises you, fire raining from the sky, fighting an indestructible Beast, then, of course, the little matter of having my _soul_ stolen from me- -"

"And pining after Cordelia?", Darla interjected. "That one of those things that just 'happens', too?"

Angel looked at her in shock. "How did you- -"

"Oh, please. What do think we watch on the other side? 'Days of Our Lives' marathons?", Darla said, her voice bordering on casual, except for a flash of emotion. "I know about her, Angel. About what you've been feeling for her. Thinking about her."

Angel sat there, speechless. What could he really say?

"For someone so damn smart, one would think you'd actually consider the logic in how you suddenly find a woman who you've been repulsed by since you met her to be simply irresistible", the blonde woman said, her gaze scrutinizing Angel.

"I don't think that's any of your business, Darla", Angel said defensively, standing up and walking towards the balcony.

"C'mon, now, darling", she pressed, standing up from the bed. "You mean to tell me you haven't given it any thought as to how that happened? About these warm, fuzzy feelings happening between you two conveniently around the time I came to you pregnant?"

"What are you saying?", Angel asked, whirling on her.

"I'm saying that if you think about, Angel…_really_ think about it, it's just not logical", she said, calmly.

"Love isn't supposed to be logical. You know that", he said, almost angrily.

"'Love'?", she said, her eyebrows raised again. "Is that what you think you're feeling?"

Angel paused, searching for the words. "I…I don't…"

"You don't know", Darla finished for him. "Exactly. Angel, you heard it yourself. There are forces at work here, forces beyond our control. They've been manipulating all this into happening- -"

"No. This is different", Angel said.

"How is it different?", she asked, her arms folded over her chest.

"Cordy and I…we've fought together for three years now, we…we've changed. She's changed", Angel said, trying to argue his point. "She's a different person now than before…she's- -"

"The kind you want to settle down with? Raise a family? Grow old with?", Darla asked, clearly not buying it. "Isn't that the same thing you said about a certain little blonde Slayer who patrols the Hellmouth?"

Angel started to say something, but Darla cut him off. "Open your eyes, Angel. All this you're feeling? The jealousy? The fantasies about Cordelia? The lust?…It's a lie."

"No", he said, a bit of grit in his voice.

"Think about it", the blonde pushed. "If this thing could've manipulated us into giving birth to Connor, and the rest of your friends into the decisions they made…why couldn't it manipulate your feelings for another woman? When everyone knows there's only one woman for you? And here's a hint: It's not me."

Angel shook his head, confusion starting to cloud his mind. "No…no it doesn't- -"

"Yes, it does. Only you're not _allowing_ it to make sense", she said, her chime-like voice still calm. "Angel, I know you. On affairs of the heart, your love doesn't waver, not by itself. You killed me years ago, _not_ for Cordelia…you did it for _Buffy_. I knew it back then, I sure as hell know it now…All the changes you've made to yourself since getting to California? The mission? The purpose? The life-altering decisions?…In the end…it all comes back to Buffy."

"What does it matter?", Angel said, his voice welling with a long-forgotten pain. "Darla, you know the score. Even if ", he trailed off, "…Buffy and I can't be together. The curse won't let us be."

"And yet you think with Cordelia that won't be a problem?", Darla asked, smiling. "Because _she_ can't give you perfect happiness?"

Angel's eyes widened, as he realized Darla had pretty much won the argument.

"I never said that", he said, again on the defensive.

"You didn't have to, Precious", she smiled knowingly.

Angel had to do something to get out of this conversation. It was leading him to a place he wasn't sure he wanted to go to. "Look, Darla", he quickly replied. "Maybe you should get that rest you've been wanting- -"

"Okay then, let's try this", Darla said. "Are you in love with Cordelia?"

Angel looked at her, then to the floor. "I…I…"

She decided to switch, stopping a smile that was trying to creep its way across her ruby-red lips. "Are you in love with Buffy?"

Angel looked up into Darla's eyes, and without pause, without thought, almost automatically, he replied.

"Yes."

Now Darla let her smile explore the width of her face. _Checkmate_, she thought, triumphantly.

Angel's eyes lit up in realization. It was as if something deep within him had awoken from a deep slumber. As if the real him, his real feelings had risen up from the ashes of his too-often burned heart. And he could feel his heart, his soul singing the name of the one person he knew…that at some level, he always knew… he belonged with. That he belonged to.

_Buffy_.

His eyes betrayed his emotions, face flooded with love, and hope, and fear and pain. Thinking about Buffy always made him do that.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Angel", she said gently, reaching up and stroking the ride side of his face. "You known it all along. You always have. It's like the Mohra demon said…'Together, you are powerful.'"

Angel's eyes shot up to her, stunned at the words he had just heard. He'd never told anyone that story…about the Day that Never Was. That magical day where, for the first time in his life, he had everything he ever wanted.

His human heartbeat.

Sunlight.

The image of his own reflection…and life and love with the woman who held a strangle-hold on his heart for all time.

"How did you- -"

"I told you", she said softly. "We see a lot up there…..That's why those forces kept you apart. Because they knew, that together, you two were practically unbeatable. Impossible to defeat. When you were together, you stopped everything that came your way. From the power of the Master, to the sisterhood of Jhea, even a demon Ascension, you faced it together…and you conquered it together."

"I thought…I thought the Powers That Be were the ones who kept us apart", he stammered, lost in the sea of emotion overcoming him. "Because they couldn't risk releasing Angelus again…because of our duty, our lives, our- -"

"The Powers would have liked nothing more than for you and Buffy to have ended up together", Darla corrected him.

"Then why didn't they do anything?", he asked her, his face contorting with anger. "Why'd they sit on their all-powerful asses while Buffy and I were kept apart? Why didn't they help us?"

Darla shook her head. "You know that's not how it works, darling. It has to be your choice. YOU made the decision to leave her, YOU made the decision to swallow back the day- -"

"Because the Oracles said that when the End of Days comes, if I were mortal, Buffy would die!", he snapped. "That wasn't an option. It never will be."

Again, Darla shook her head. "That's not what they said, Angel. They never said that Buffy wouldn't die if you stayed a vampire. Look at what happened to her two years ago."

The Champion winced, the memory of that fateful night, when Willow arrived at the hotel, bearing the news that he had always feared since he first witnessed Buffy being called as the Slayer. That his beloved had fallen in battle. He couldn't deal with that pain. He had to flee to Asia for three months just to try and escape it, and when that failed, finally come to terms with it.

"But none of that matters now", she said, turning his gaze upwards so that he would look at her. "What matters now, is that the End of Days is coming. Now. And if Buffy is to survive, she'll need help." She paused for a beat. "She'll need her champion. As will the rest of the world."

Angel looked at her, staring hard. This angelic figure, who only in appearance was the Darla he remembered, was now telling him everything he wanted to hear. That he needed to hear. But even so, he had been disappointed one time too many in the past. Although none of them ever hurt like his failings with Buffy. Even Connor's betrayals and rebellions, hurtful as they were, fell short of the pain he was caused when he and his lover were separated, seemingly forever.

"And then what?", he asked, his voice starting to crack. "Once this End of Days passes, if we survive it, then what? Do we go back to our regular lives, Darla? Me to mine and she to hers? Do we play make-believe and pretend it's not killing us inside? Because nothing's going to change what it is. I'm still a walking corpse. I can't give her what she needs, or what she'll want. I can't give her children- -"

"You had Connor. And that was with another corpse", she smirked, but not maliciously.

"Because he was a prophecy!", he countered. "I don't know if I can do that again. And even if I could, I destroyed the Gem of Amarra years ago. I can't go out with her into the sunlight. If we have kids, I can't go out in the daylight and play with them. And if we make love…and Angelus gets free…the first thing he'd do is make her suffer, our children…"

Darla looked down at the floor, briefly, before looking at him again. "Angel, trust me on this. I know things now. I'm still not sure about how much I can tell you but…" She paused, taking a shaky breath, before continuing. "You have to trust me. If you love her…and you do, don't deny it…go to her. Tell her that. Fight for her, Angel. Because believe it or not, you are worthy of love. And certainly worthy of hers. Everything else will fall into place after that."

Angel stared deep into her eyes, watching as her orbs danced with a secret that wanted to escape, but dared not seep out. "You're not telling me something", he said.

Darla nodded. "You're right. I'm not. Like I said, it has to be your choice. You can't cheat on this one. All I can do is prod you along the right path. The rest is up to you. It always has been."

They stood there, neither of them saying a word, for what seemed to be an eternity. Darla could see the words start to sink in to his head. Which, in itself, was a miracle, given that Angel could be amazingly thick-headed.

"Do you…do you really think I have a chance at this? That….we have a chance?", he spoke at last, hope flickering in his eyes, his voice hoarse from emotion.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have wasted my time arguing with you about it", she gently chided, smiling all the while as she did.

If his long-dead heart could be beating right at that moment, it would have sung. There was still hope. Even after all this time, all the angst, the anger, the tragedies, and deaths and return from the dead, after the miles of distance, the way-too-infrequent phone calls, even after Connor…there was still hope. That he could still find happiness. That he could still be with her. With Buffy. That thought, in itself, was enough to have placed him in near euphoria.

She could read the emotion on his face. So much hope, so much fear, so much want….to Darla, he was an open book. That happens after a lifetime or two with someone. You get to know them. Understand him. And Darla was one of the only people, ever, that had the unique ability to understand Angel, as well as Angelus. Perhaps she was matched by only one other in that category…Buffy.

"She'll be here soon", she told him, a soft smile stretching on her pretty face. "I can feel them coming."

The vampire's eyes widened at the thought of his beloved being under the same roof as he was again. What would he do? What would he say? Why did he suddenly feel like some silly schoolboy, when he knew that he was more confident than that…most of the time, anyway?

"Oh, God. I-I'm nervous, why am I nervous?", he asked his Sire.

"Well, it's not everyday lately that you get to see the woman you love…that you _really_ love", she responded.

Angel looked at himself, his face contorting in horror, before looking up at Darla. "I-I-I'm a mess", he realized. "That battle with Skip made my clothes all dirty. I've got to change, take a shower- -"

"Slow down, darling", the blonde chuckled. "First things first. Go shower. You smell like you just crawled out of a sewer."

Angel looked at her blankly. "I did crawl out of a sewer. That's were Skip's lair was."

Darla frowned. "Just shower, okay? Let's start simple. In the meantime, I'm going to get some shut-eye. Wake me up as soon as they arrive, understand?"

He nodded. "Will do." He turned to exit the room, when he paused, turning back to Darla.

"Darla", he began.

"Yes?", she couldn't help but smile. He was so cute when he was all awkward.

After a hesitant step, he quickly walked back to the smaller woman, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug. Although surprised, Darla was quick to hug her ex-lover back. It was odd, though. They did a lot of things together over their time as a couple. A lot of sex, a lot of killing, a lot of torture, suffering and sex mingled into that, too. But they never really hugged. Not like this. Not with such warmth, and empathy.

He pulled back from their hug, his eyes filled with warmth. "I'm really glad you came back…thanks for setting me straight."

"Hey, you know what they say", Darla shrugged, impishly grinning. "Mother knows best."

Angel let out a small chuckle at that. "I hope so." Then he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Are we there yet?", Dawn whined, slouching in the seat of the rather large Winnebago the gang rented. 

"Bloody hell, Nibblet, that's the tenth time you've asked me that!", a rather irritated Spike snapped from the driver's seat. They were driving for about four hours, their trek to L.A. starting in the daytime. Taking that into account, Buffy had ordered every window in the Winnebago to be covered with aluminum foil. No use having Spike, one of their strongest warriors, spontaneously combust while on their way to handle a major battle, possibly THE battle of their lives.

"You've been driving for hours", she grumbled. "Just admit you're lost already."

"I'm NOT lost, damn it!", he shot back, glancing irritably at Dawn before returning his eyes to the road. "I've been to L.A. before, mind you. I'm just taking the short cut. 'tl save us time, is what 'tll do."

"What good will your stupid shortcut do if you're lost?", she sniped.

"I'm not LOST!", he growled in his Cockney English accent. "Will you just give it a rest and let me bloody well be? We'll get there when we get there."

"Famous last words", she muttered to herself.

"I heard that!", the vampire called from the driver's seat.

"Good!", Dawn shot back.

"Dawn, Spike, could you please keep it down? We're going over strategy here", Buffy admonished her younger sister.

"I still don't get why we couldn't have traveled during nightfall", Spike argued huffily. " 'ts not like L.A. won't be there in the morning if we don't get there quick enough."

"Spike…it an apocalypse", Buffy said dryly. "Urgency is kinda the issue."

"To get to L.A. or to Angel?", Spike muttered. He had been displeased when he learned of the situation in the City of Angels…moreso because it meant of having to deal with _that_ Angel. Things between Spike and Buffy had been warming up recently, giving him hope that he could finally win her heart. Which was why a visit to L.A. was completely _not_ in his plans. Having the object of his affection face-to-face with the old object of _her_ affection, even if it was only to save the world, couldn't bode well. For him, anyway.

Ignoring the murmur she heard from Spike using her sensitive hearing, Buffy turned back to the table set up in the back of the vehicle, eyeing the mess of books and research that Giles had dug up.

"I hope they won't behave themselves as such during the entire trip", Giles frowned. "That could prove to be most distracting, as well as annoying."

"I wouldn't worry about that. You know how they get on", Buffy shrugged.

"I think that's his point", Anya chimed in, idly filing her nails.

Principal Robin Wood took a quick look around the vehicle, whistling as he surveyed the vehicle, the impressive arsenal of weapons lined in back, and the 10 other Potentials sitting there, gossiping with each other and generally relaxing.

"Gotta hand it to you, Buffy", he nodded in approval. "This is quite a setup you got here. I take it this is the Mother Ship of this little convoy you've set up?"

"Pretty much", Buffy said. "This is the Santa Maria among the Nina's and the Pinto's"

Wood raised an eyebrow. "That's Pint-a's, Buffy."

Buffy blushed with embarrassment. "Oh. Right." She smiled at her employer. "By the way, thank you for arranging all those buses for us. Between our three cars, there was no way we were going to fit 200 Potentials in there."

Wood brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "Ah, what's a little illegal use of school property when it comes to saving the world?"

Xander smiled over at Willow. "Wow, you were right, Will. This guy's 10 times cooler than Snyder could ever hope to be."

Willow grinned back. "Right again, as always."

Buffy turned to Willow. "So…on the phone with this…Fred, she said that Cordelia was possessed by some evil being?"

The redhead nodded. "Yeah…says that it got her pregnant. And that it's been making her do some pretty bad things…kill people, summon some Beast-creature, and she's the one responsible for the sun blocking out in L.A."

"Figures that the Poof and his mates would be smack-dab in the middle of the end of the world", Spike sneered. "Couldn't solve it themselves, could they?"

"They had a lot to deal with", Willow said defensively. "Especially with Angel losing his sou- -"

Faith coughed loudly, and poignantly, shooting daggers at Willow.

"His…so…vereignty over the city which he claims as his own", the redhead quickly about-faced.

Buffy frowned. "That's definitely weird. I'd never picture Cordy to be an evil mastermind."

"No kidding", Faith smirked, her legs lazily propped up on the table. "I've seen snow less flakier than her."

Giles scrunched his eyebrows. "Bizarre…tell me, d-did this Fred mention anything else specific about Cordelia's condition?"

"Other than suddenly going full-blown pregnant and hatchet-crazy? No, she let the details a bit sketchy. I guess we'll have to be filled in when we get to the hotel."

Dawn made a face. "That's odd. I mean, think about it. Cordelia's the new big-bad. The same girl who spent more time in malls than…well, anyone."

"Are you kidding?", Xander snorted. "I could've told you that girl was evil from when we met in the sandbox in kindergarten."

"Xander, this is quite serious!", Giles reprimanded him. "We're talking about an old friend, one who needs our help more than ever, and you're still acting like some petulant child over silly grievances!"

Xander stood up, meeting his glare. "Giles, I know that humor is very strange with you British, but that was what we uncultured Americans call a joke. You think I actually want something to happen to her? She's my ex-girlfriend, for God's sake! Of course I still care if something happens to her!"

Everyone grew silent at Xander's unexpected outburst before the young man sat back unsteadily in his chair.

Buffy gave him a faint smile. "We know, Xand. We're going to get her back, I promise."

"Looks like someone still carries a torch for a certain cheerleader", Spike smirked.

Anya frowned at Xander, arms folded over her chest. "Evidently", she all but growled, some jealousy mixed in with that voice.

"Remind me why he's here again?", Xander pointed at Spike, irritated.

"Actually, I was beginning to wonder that myself", Wood glared in the direction of his mother's murderer.

Buffy stayed an arm on Wood. "We need him. He's a good fighter. And we need all the help we can get right now."

Wood glanced at Buffy, then back at Spike. "I guess some sacrifices have to be made."

Spike sighed. "I didn't mean that in a spiteful way, Xander."

"Oh, be still my beating heart, Spike's apologizing", Xander said in a mock surprise voice. "Ask me when I care."

Willow furrowed her brow in thought. "I should've known something was wrong…Cordy seemed different when I visited last time…jumpier, I don't know. Something told me that she was a little…off."

Faith shrugged. "We only spoke for a moment, but it was pretty nasty…She seemed like her usual bitchy self to me. "

"Good cover", Dawn noted. "After all, let's face it. She's been the Queen of Mean for as long as we've all known her, right?"

"Pretty much", Anya agreed. "I met her that one time I was supposed to grant her vengeance wish after Willow made out with Xander, and I have to say, she was one of the nastier girls I've met. And I was pretty around the block with my vengeance demon-gig."

"So, let me get this straight", Wood interjected. "We're traveling 200 miles out to help this…Angel…?"

"Yeah", Buffy simply said.

"And he's a detective…who fights evil?", Wood skeptically asked.

"Uh-huh", nodded Faith.

"Who's got a friend you know who's pregnant with a hell-spawn that could destroy the world…?"

Everyone nodded.

"Boy", Wood thought aloud. "Glad it doesn't get any more confusing than that."

Xander and Willow exchanged knowing looks with each other. Boy, if only Buffy had told the good principal that Angel was a vampire…and one with a soul. Obviously, Buffy chose to save that topic for another time and place. Like when they were so far deep in battle that it would be too late to turn back.

"Yeah", Buffy muttered. "Real simple."

Giles looked to his Slayer in concern. "I have to wonder, though. Was it so wise to place Andrew driving 5 of our Potentials in the car? My car, to be exact?"

"Don't worry about it", Buffy shrugged. "Andrew knows that if he tries anything, I'll bend him like a pretzel. Besides, it's not like he could get that far in your car, anyway."

The Watcher stiffened up. "I'll have you know, that car can go up to 75 miles an hour- -"

"Once you wind up the rubber-band on it?", Dawn snickered.

"Really, old man, when are you gonna move out of the bloody Stone Age and get a car you _don't_ have to Fred Flintstone your way around in?", Spike chimed in.

"I don't recall asking your opinion on the matter, Spike", Giles sniped.

"But you do have to admit, Giles. That car's seen better days", Willow said.

"Like when man invented fire", Xander teased.

Giles rolled his eyes. "Can we get back to more pressing matters at hand? Such as - -"

At that, an arrow crashed through the window, embedding itself deep into the table that the Scoobies were sitting at.

"Such as the flying arrow that came from the window", Giles finished.

"Bloody hell! Ambush!", Spike yelled from the driver's seat, the car beginning to roar faster as the screaming girls hurtled down the empty interstate.

"Everyone get down! NOW!", Buffy ordered as the Potentials instantly ducked for cover.

Faith instinctively leapt up to her feet, peeling back a thin layer of foil from one of the windows. She took a peek out of the window to take a look at their assailants.

About 7 or 8 Harbingers on horseback. Reloading arrows into their crossbows.

"Yo, B! We've got company!", she called back to her sister Slayer.

"Giles, Xander, protect the girls. Dawn, Anya, follow them and keep down at all times", Buffy instructed them as she bolted for the weapons cabinet, grabbing a sword and pocketing Mr. Pointy in her back pocket. "Willow, see if you can work up some kind of protection for us and the other Potentials, or anything to get us out of here."

She turned to Wood. "Help keep them safe?"

He nodded. "Will do."

"Wait, where are you going, luv?", Spike called out from the driver's seat, his eyes focused on the Slayer for a moment in concern before turning back to the road.

Buffy's eyes steeled. "Out. Faith?"

Faith walked to her side, crossbow in hand. "I got your back."

Buffy nodded, and the two Slayers quickly took to the ladder leading to the roof of the vehicle.

"Be careful", Dawn called to her sister, worry sparkling in her blue eyes.

Buffy nodded. "Don't worry. I will." Then she and Faith disappeared onto the roof.

Wood grabbed the radio from near the Winnebago's entrance. "Attention all units! Attention all units! Evasive maneuvers, we are under attack! I repeat: Evasive maneuvers!", he barked into the radio connecting him with the drivers of the three cars and four school buses loaded with Potentials.

Willow got to the driver's seat, where Spike was frantically swerving, trying to avoid the approaching Harbingers on his left.

"Spike, how much farther?", the witch asked.

"Well, got good news and bad news, Red", the vampire replied, his eyes fixed on the road. "At this rate, we should be about 5 miles outside L.A.'s city limits."

"Great. And the bad news?", Willow asked, a sense of dread in that question.

Spike took a quick, grave look at Willow before motioning for her to look to the rear view mirror.

"So are they."

Willow frowned before looking at the mirror, and she gasped at what she saw.

A legion of horseback riding, weapon-toting Harbingers.

At least 200, by the looks of it.

Riding right behind the Sunnydale convoy. And closing the gap quickly…

Willow gulped. "Oh, we are in so much trouble."

* * *

T B C……. 


	6. Part 5 Crash Landing

A/N: I have to say: I'm loving your feedback! It pleases me to no end that you guys are enjoying my story.

I realize that my posts are taking a bit long, but I reiterate- My Mother Is In The Hospital.

Some things take priority over others, cough _Buffy Fan_ cough . Besides, I'm moving in two days, so I'm not sure how quickly I'll be able to update.

I'm sorry if I've made you guys wait, but I promise to try and get the story updated faster. And you can expect a hellova lot more coming soon, and sooner than you guys think! Believe me, the wait will be well worth it, I promise!

So, I've been thinking a lot about your requests with the couples. And I'll only say this: a few of those suggestions are pretty much on the money! But I'm gonna try and keep you guessing as to who ends up with who. Oh, and keep your eyes peeled. You never know when a surprise visit is going to happen, somewhere in the story! (And yes, that WAS a hint.) So, without further ado, I present to you….

* * *

Part 5 –Crash Landing

* * *

In the back alley of the meatpacking district, 'Cordelia' gasped.

She was quite winded from the latest turn of events. Grasping against the brick wall of the alley, she fumbled for control of her balance. She could feel her baby growing within her every passing second. It was coming.

Losing Connor and her sacrifice definitely were complications she hadn't counted on. No doubt in her mind that Darla had taken them back to Angel's.

_Darla_, she thought, seething as the perspiration began to trickle down her forehead. _That little bitch! She couldn't just stay dead, could she? I bet it was the Powers that sent her…morons. And I had to be stupid enough to make her human. _

It was a gamble, at best. She figured that the boy would have gladly done her bidding if it meant saving his precious mother. She could feel her control on him waning even before Darla's unwanted interjection. Now, there was little doubt that 'Cordy' had lost her grip on The Destroyer completely.

This was all Darla's fault. She took her sacrifice, she took her mate…and now she was going to help Angel try to take her baby, too.

_Oh, she's gotta go_, she thought maliciously as she managed to find her way back into the abandoned building.

She stumbled back onto the makeshift mattress she had set up for her delivery. She knew she needed another sacrifice soon. It was only a matter of time before Angel found her. She needed time.

Time for the baby.

The baby.

That was all that mattered.

But first, she had to take care of Darla. She probably knew too much. If the Powers sent her, then they probably told her how to stop the baby from being born. And that made Darla dangerous.

Too dangerous to live.

Shakily, she drew a breath as she held out her palms. A small, red glowing amber appeared in her hands.

_Ok, Darla_, she smiled, wickedly. _Think you can just waltz back in here and ruin the birth of a new world? Well, don't worry honey…'cause Mama's saved the last dance…just for you. _

* * *

Wesley sat, pensative, gazing at the piles of books and papers in his office. 

Or at least, the room that was once his office.

Not much had changed in that dark green room. There were still a formidable library of books on demonology, vampiredom, mystical phenomena and Watcher's Diaries he had pilfered from the Council…when they still existed.

But he knew, he felt somewhere deep down that it was no longer his office to reside in. He had lost that privilege nearly a year ago, when he made the decision that had altered his life, and in the process, altered many lives now hanging precariously in the balance…

To steal a still-infant Connor from his father.

He could play back in his keen mind the events as if they had just happened five minutes ago. He could still feel the icy chill of Justine's blade sliding across his throat, as she stole the boy to Holtz, leaving him lying in the middle of nowhere, life pouring out of him.

And the fright of impending death, the clamping of his nostrils as Angel, his long-time friend, maybe even his best friend, tried to suffocate him with his own pillow as he lay dying in a hospital bed, the souled vampire enraged over his betrayal and kidnapping of his only son. Whom Wesley was only trying to protect from what was, what he thought, a death sentence, foretold by a fake prophecy, to be executed by his own father.

_You Son of a BITCH! You're gonna PAY for what you did!…You took my son!…You expect me to forgive you! NO! I'll NEVER forgive you! You took my son!… You're a **dead** man, Pryce! You're **DEAD**! **YOU HEAR ME! DEAD! DEAD!**_

And the crack of his breaking heart as Fred, a woman he had become very fond of, perhaps even……telling him with hurt in her eyes, and anger in her southern-laced voice to never come back to the hotel. That he no longer had a place there. He was no longer welcome back in the place that was, for the longest time, his home. With the only people he had ever truly known as family. He could still recall her uncharacteristically frosty words ringing in his head…

_If Angel sees you again, he'll kill you, Wesley. This time for real….Don't come back to the hotel. Ever…The prophecy was a fake. Angel was never gonna hurt Connor…. **It was all for nothing**._

For the longest time, even until now, he was unable to forgive himself for that mistake. For putting Angel through a grief no parent should ever have to go through, for subjecting poor little Connor to that God-awful dimension Quor-toth. For betraying those he loved and siding with a lunatic's reasoning. For being the pathetic failure his…now departed father, always accused him of being.

Of course, guilt slowly converted to bitterness. After complete isolation from the AI team, without so much as a second thought on their part, and living alone like a hermit, only to be constantly tempted by Lilah to join Wolfram & Hart, he did the only thing a pissed-off, lonely, heart-broken man could do…

He made his own rules. And played his own game.

So much had happened to him since tapping into the darker side of his nature, the side he never knew existed…or perhaps, on some level, he always knew, but was too afraid to look. Gone were the rumpled, bookish clothes, replaced by a darker, more practical (and apparently cooler) apparel. Already versed in the fighting arts from his days in the Council, he had kicked up his repertoire to include axes, knives, pressure points, torture tactics (some of which he, with shocking pleasure, extended unto Justine when he held her captive in his closet)…

And guns.

Lots and lots of guns.

Calling in some favors from England, recruiting able-bodied men and women on the street who knew the score, but where powerless to stop it, until now, and shacking up with a skilled weapons designer and expert named Emil, using his powerful mental acumen to get information on everything and everyone in the City of Los Angeles…

And voila. He had himself his own rogue demon hunting operation.

No longer answering to anyone but himself, he ran his operation quite efficiently. Saving quite a few lives, in the process. With every demon, every obstacle, ever situation that required his strength, leadership and intellect, he grew more confident, more daring. Stronger.

Within those few short months, he had more "field training" than any of the Watcher's Council could ever hope for. He had the respect and admiration of those he led. He had a purpose. A mission. Finally, he had everything that, professionally, and to an extent, personally, that he ever wanted.

To an extent.

Although his bed was never cold at night, thanks to Lilah, there was still the empty feeling of longing within him. Of friendship needed. Of understanding.

Something that Lilah, for all her surprisingly warm and sincere attempts, simply couldn't give him. However endearing she may…might have been.

He still wasn't sure what exactly compelled him to return to Angel Investigations. Sure, logic dictated it was the Beast situation, the impending apocalypse, the fact that even Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, for all his otherworldly knowledge and mind-blowing weapons arsenal, couldn't do what a Champion like Angel could do. Or that, maybe in the end, it really was Angel's battle, after all, and all he could do was to help the vampire through it. Why else would he have bothered to fish Angel out of his watery Pacific Ocean prison?

But Wesley could have simply stayed on the sidelines, helping from a distance, as he had done so recently. So, what changed? Why did he have to be here, of all places? Now?

In the same place where he had gotten the destructive news that the Council was gone, that his father had perished, the same place he had stolen baby Connor, the same place he came to blows with Gunn, a man he once took a bullet for, without thought…the same place where Lilah was…

He shook his head, lifting the glasses off of the sore bridge of his nose. _Don't go there, Pryce_, he told himself. _There'll be plenty of time to grieve later…_

Later? He snorted to himself. He hadn't even begun to properly mourn for Lilah since the night they found her lifeless body in the hotel, her throat torn open, blood seeping out of her.

Wesley unconsciously ran a finger across his own scar. _It seems we had even more in common than I thought, Lilah_, he mused. _In a morbid sort of way, I guess you could call us soul mates…_

He stopped himself right there, frowning. She couldn't have loved him. _No, it wasn't possible. She was Lilah Morgan. Cold-hearted, vicious, manipulative. Wolfram & Hart to the core. People like her couldn't love, right? They can't. They don't know how… They couldn't possibly even know what love is. _

But then again…neither did he.

And in the back of his mind, he was beginning to wonder if he would ever know…

--(Knock Knock)--

He looked up, blearily from his paper work, sighing. "Come in", he answered, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

Gently, the door gave way to reveal a smiling, yet somewhat timid-looking Darla.

For a moment, Wesley felt his breath hitch. But, God, she was beautiful. Had he not known better, he could've mistaken Darla for an angel fallen from heaven. Which in a way she was, considering the unceremonious way she dropped it the Hotel, literally.

"I don't suppose you'd buy the line that I was selling Girl Scout cookies, would you?", she smiled, a soft chuckle escaping from her lips.

"With that face, I'd wager you'd have sold out a few times over by now", Wesley said, to his own surprise, smiling…somewhat.

"Can I come in?", Darla asked, a bit hesitant.

"I don't see why not", Wesley shrugged. "You're not a vampire anymore. You need no invitation."

She cast her gaze down, the smile gone. Wesley cursed himself or being so stupid for making a remark like that.

"Darla…I-I didn't- -", he began.

"It's all right", Darla shrugged. "It's pretty clear that everyone's still freaked about me being here."

Wes hesitated for a moment. "I don't think that 'freaked' is the operative word."

The blonde stared back at him, her eyebrow arched.

"Or then again, maybe it can be", the ex-Watcher relented.

She sighed, taking a moment before she walked in, closing the door behind her.

Pausing a beat, Wesley said, "H-Have you spoken to Connor yet?"

Darla shook her head. "Not yet. I guess I'm still a bit tired…besides, I'm kinda nervous about that one."

"Nervous?", he said, puzzled. "Why? You saved him and the girl from certain death…he seems to have an obvious affection towards you, which is more than I can say for Angel…and besides, you're his mother."

"Still", Darla shrugged. "There's so much I want to say to him. I just…I'm going to go downstairs in a bit. I'm feeling a little more like my old self." She paused for a moment, considering the statement. "But not in the wanting-to-rip-out-your-throat capacity."

"That's always a positive", Wesley said as he stood and walked around the desk. He leaned casually against it, arms folded over his chest, resting his gaze on Darla.

"Not that I mind…" he trailed off as his eyes wandered up Darla's curvy form up to her angelic face, stopping right at her deep blue eyes. She noticed his stare, and blushed a becoming pink. "I…really don't mind", he corrected himself, clearing his throat. "But, is there some reason why you decided to stop by here?"

Darla gave the ex-Watcher a soft look before stepping a few inches closer. "I…know about what's been going on…with you." She took a beat. "I know it must've been hard receiving the news about your father and the Council like that…and already on top of everything…I thought maybe you'd like to talk about it."

Wesley looked down at the carpeted floor, and then raised his eyes back to the ex-vampire. "I appreciate your concern, Darla, believe me…"

"But you don't want to talk", Darla finished, sighing with disappointment.

"I'm rather busy", Wesley sighed in return. "With all this new information to digest…" He picked up one of the books, thumbing through it mindlessly. "Especially concerning the First Evil…there's very little written about it…and I'm afraid I'm drawing something of a blank on this…entity possessing Cordelia…"

She reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm. "_Wes_ley", she said softly.

"Darla, please, not now", he said, sterner than he had intended. Sighing, he corrected. "I'm…really not in the mood to talk, thank you."

"You _need _to talk about this", she pressed, gently. She lifted her hand and turned his gaze to meet her eyes. He knew he should've started to bat her hands away, hide behind the walls he had built around himself in what seemed like a lifetime ago...and yet he couldn't do it. He saw the affection, the concern, the care in her eyes and he was nearly breathless. No one had ever looked at him like that. Not even Lilah. He felt a small lump in his throat start to shape.

"You've been through so much in these last few months", she said, biting her lip in empathy for him.

She traced a finger along the scar adorning his neck, a bitter reminder of Justine. Wesley let her touch it, which surprised even himself. That scar was something he never let anyone touch. Even while sleeping with Lilah, he never let her kiss that side of his neck, never let her hands touch it, try as she may. She once mentioned that to him, but he changed the subject rather slyly. Perhaps Lilah really did care for him, but still…that scar was a reminder, of what he had become, of what he lost. It was a reminder of his own pain, and the pain he inadvertedly caused those he loved.

That was a mark that was his and his alone.

And now, he was letting this woman, who he had only seen a few hours earlier, touch that which he never let anyone touch. It frightened him.

"You lost your friends…you lost your hope……your sense of self…………_her_", she said.

He scrunched his eyes in confusion, before the realization hit him. "Lilah", he said in a sotto voice, the word bringing him a dull pain.

"And now your own father, and the place you once worshipped as the center of your existence…You've lost so much and yet you still haven't lost your will to fight. That in itself is a testament to the kind of man you really are", she smiled gently. "But you bear all that pain, that anger, that bitterness inside you, and it's only gotten heavier to hold."

"It's for me to hold. And me alone", he said, grimly, his voice thickening with emotion.

She shook her head. "Not for you alone. You have your - -"

"Friends? The same ones who abandoned me?", he said, his eyes hardening with bitterness. "The same ones who banished me from their lives without a second thought? The same ones who wouldn't even give me the time of day when I needed comfort most of all?" He frowned. "I'm doing just fine. I'm here, back at the hotel, helping out again…that's all that matters."

"Wesley, you haven't even had time to mourn", Darla reasoned. "You're only human, not some robot for labor. We have to let those emotions out, or they'll keep filling our minds until we explode- -"

Suddenly, she gasped as a red flash of light threw her back against the wall.

"_Darla_!", Wesley cried, alarmed and far more scared than he had ever been. He rushed to her side, catching her before she could hit the floor, gently cradling her.

**_Your time has come, Darla! Your meddling shall not be tolerated any longer_**, a deep voice growled inside her head.

Darla slumped onto the ground, moaning in pain, clutching both sides of her head as the echo of the voice reverberated.

"What is it?", Wesley asked.

" It's 'Cordelia'", Darla rasped out. "She's in my head!"

**_Did you really think I would let you continue on in this world knowing what you know_**, the voice sneered.

Back in the alley, Cordelia talked directly to the glowing red amber, an evil glint in her brown eyes. "Do you _really_ think that _anything_ the Powers That Be sent you here with will make a difference?"

**_HA! That's disappointing. You can tell them that when I send you back to them,_**the voice roared inside Darla's head.

Struggling to regain her footing, Darla sucked in her breath. "Cut the James Earl Jones-voice-over crap, 'Cordelia'!", she bravely taunted. "I know it's you! And I'm not going anywhere… not until I make sure your sick plans are done for!"

**_FOOL! You have no idea what you're up against,_** the voice shouted back, angrily, making Darla wince in pain.

Wesley clutched her closer, his eyes wide in panic. 'Cordelia' had already taken Lilah from him, and now she was intent on taking Darla. He couldn't let that happen.

"You clearly have no comprehension of the true limits of my power!", 'Cordelia' gloated as she grew louder in her rival's head.

"And you…have clearly underestimated mine!", she panted, but with a fury in her eyes. "_Disperse_!"

A white jolt shot back at 'Cordelia', stunning her. But the Dark Queen recovered. "Is that all you've got, _Dear One_? Because I'm just warming up", she chuckled darkly before raising her hand and smashing it down hard.

* * *

With a scream, the Bringer fell to the ground, unmercifully landing in the path of the wheels of the oncoming bus. 

"They're still coming, B!", Faith said as she let loose an arrow right through the head of a horseback-riding Bringer, who fell sloppily over his horse.

"Getting that", Buffy shouted as she lashed out at one of the Bringers who had climbed to the top of the Winebago with a roundhouse kick that knocked it off balance and onto the rapidly moving earth below.

In the Winnebago, Anya yelped as an arrow skidded past her head, just missing her.

"A little more speed would help, you know!", she shouted over at Spike.

"Working on it, Anya! Just keep down and hold on!", he shouted as he slammed his foot down on the acceleration pedal.

"Giles, isn't there some magic trick you know to get us outta here?", Dawn frantically asked, crawling along the floor to the weapons cabinet. "Didn't the Coven give you any sort of extra mojo?"

"I'm afraid I'm all…mojo-ed out, so to speak", Giles told the young girl as he crawled alongside her, shielding her body with his. The Watcher grabbed two crossbows from the cabinet, tossing one to Wood.

"Thanks", he said briefly, before smashing a window of the van, and getting a bird's eye view of one of the Bringers clawing at one of the Potential-filled buses, making a grab for a screaming Amanda.

"Roughing up students? Not on my watch, Blind-Boy", the principal scowled before firing a direct hit into the back of the Bringer. The minion flailed about in pain before stumbling down to meet his fate at the hands, or rather, wheels of the 80-mph-moving schoolbus.

Amanda looked up ahead at her savior, mouthing a relieved "Thank You!" before helping Kennedy and Rona hack away at two Bringers coming up the sides of the bus.

"Nice shot", Willow whistled, impressed.

"All in a day's work", Wood shrugged, reloading his crossbow quickly.

Spike cast the principal a dark eye, before looking back at the road. "Willow, how's that protection mojo going?", he asked.

"Not going", the witch shook her head. "It'll take at least a half-hour before I can work up the energies to shield every car and every person."

"We don't have half an hour, luv!", he said sternly, swerving the van into an oncoming sect of Bringers approaching from the left side, leveling the whole lot. "Either protect us or get us the hell outta here before we're ka-bobbed on those bloody arrows!"

"I can't just poof everyone out of here like that, Spike!", Willow argued. "I'm not that strong, not anymore- -"

"That's a load of bunk, Red, and you know it!", Spike glared up at her. "You and I know that there's a world of power inside you. But you're still scared to cut loose! Too afraid you'll go over the edge again!"

"Said the vampire-with-a-soul who won't even hurt ants anymore!", Xander sniped, shielding Anya, Molly, Vi and Chao-Ahn with his own body from the flying arrows piercing the glass around them.

"Sod off, Harris! I can cut loose when I need to. I bloody well would if I could go up there and not go up in flames like a dried twig!", the vampire shot back. He turned back to Willow. "Come on, Red…focus. There's got to be some new trick up in that pretty little head of yours you can still try. We need you, or we'll all be dead in a few minutes."

Willow looked uncertain, fear sparked in her eyes. "I…I can't…"

"Down!", Giles bellowed as he tackled Willow to the floor in a rush that made the witch see stars. Only a fraction of a second later, a flaming arrow shot crashed though the right hand side of the driver's pit, embedding itself deep in Spike's left hand, still on the wheel.

The vampire howled in agony.

* * *

Another red jolt smashed into Darla, the impact nearly making her bounce off the floor. 

She gasped in extraordinary pain.

"Someone! Come quick! We need help!", Wesley shouted down the hallway.

He turned back to a panting, pain-racked Darla, clinging to him desperately.

He grabbed her shoulders. "Darla, listen to me. You have to fight her."

"I'm…mnngh…trying!…", she wheezed before shaking her head, yelling, "_Malefactoris departem!"_

A white bolt smashed into 'Cordelia', this one more powerful than the last. Shaking her head in daze, she shot daggers into her red orb, glowing brighter and redder with each pulsating moment. "Oh, no you _don't_, you little _bitch_!", she snarled, sending another attack towards her victim, this one with extra kick.

The jolt hit Darla with full force, making her cry out in raw pain.

"Darla, stay with me", Wesley gently said. "Please, don't stop fighting. Just hold on…"

Her eyes flew open and weakly met his intense, anxious gaze. "Wesley…", she whimpered. "It hurts…"

"I know", Wesley said, his voice gaining strength. "But you have to keep fighting! If we lose you, we lose everything. You're the key to this, Darla. And she knows that. Don't leave us now…" He searched for the words to say, trying to find something, anything that could raise her strength, her spirit, against this lack evil attempting to destroy her. "Think of what your death will do to Connor…to Angel…we…we need you."

He grasped her hand, clutching it tight. "Please, Darla, you have to---"

"What's going on?" familiar voices ring down the corridor. Wesley looked up just as Fred, Lorne and Gunn entered the room. The trio stopped cold in their tracks as they saw Darla laying in Wesley's arms, obviously in great pain, looking like she was half-conscious, or barely alive.

"Wesley, what's wrong with her?", Fred asked, kneeling down at his side.

"It's the thing inside Cordelia", Wesley responded, never tearing his eyes off Darla. "It's attempting to kill her using its magicks."

"Like she did with Willow", Fred realized in horror.

"Well, how do we stop her?", Lorne asked.

"We can't", Wesley said grittily. "This is a battle Darla must fight alone."

"But aren't there any spells we can use?", Gunn asked, rushing to the book shelf. "Any kind of anti-mojo-mojo to keep Queen Bee-yotch outta Darla's head?"

"There's nothing in those books that's strong enough to counter that kind of power", Wesley shook his head.

"Wait!", Fred's eyes lit up with an idea. "Willow banished 'Cordy' from her head with a spell, didn't she? What if we give Darla the same spell to use? Won't that have the same effects?"

Wesley looked up at Fred, eyes wide. "Yes, of course! That might do - -"

"What's going on?", Connor burst the door. Everyone turned to look at the boy, standing there in shock as he gazed at his mother's writhing form in the arms of Wesley.

And they watched as the shock melted away into a dark scowl…

* * *

"Spike! Are you okay?", Dawn yelped as she rushed to the vampire's side, grabbing the wounded hand. 

"Get down, Dawn!", he ordered her as he yanked the arrow rom his flesh, letting oout a strangled cry as he did.

"Thanks, Giles", Willow panted as she steadied herself off the floor.

"You're quite welcome", he responded before turning to Spike. "You won't be able to drive, now. Get to the back, grab a weapon if you can. Avoid the sun beams."

"No kidding", Spike smirked sarcastically as Dawn propped him up and to the back of the car.

"Can you still fight?", she asked him.

"Like the dogs of hell, L'il Bit", he said with boastful pride. "Hand me a crossbow, and a couple of those throwing knives, huh?"

He positioned himself at the window, peaking out carefully behind the sheet of tinfoil now flapping win the wind through the smashed glass. Dawn tossed him a loaded crossbow, which the vampire took with one swift motion. With his good hand, that is.

"Spike, don't you want me to bandage that?", Dawn asked, worried.

"No thanks, Nibblet. Vampire threshold to pain an' all…. Just keep your head down", he said, peeking the crossbow out the window. His eyes met dead on with a Bringer, armed with a crossbow and taking aim right at Spike himself.

"All right, Bright Eyes", the souled vampire chuckled darkly. "Draw."

In a blink of an eye, said Bringer was dead on the ground, Spike arrow protruding from his chest.

"Bull's-eye, mate", he smirked, quickly reloading the crossbow and finding his next target. Plucking off Bringer after Bringer with glee, reloading, taking aim, firing, repeating. William the Bloody was like a machine when he got into the heat of battle. Powerful. Constant. Indiscriminate. Merciless.

"Hmm, the boy loves his work", Anya noted from her place on the ground next to the other potentials.

"Is there any chance of us getting out of here soon?", Molly asked nervously. "I don't much fancy the idea of being shot with an arrow."

"We don't fancy that idea, either, sweetheart", Xander said. "But Willow's got it covered." He looked over at Willow, still in the driver's cockpit, with Giles taking the wheel. "I hope."

* * *

"_What did you do to my mother_?" Connor asked menacingly, his eyes filled with fear and anger. 

"She's being attacked by 'Cordelia', Connor", Fred told him. "Wesley's trying to save her."

"Cordy? But she's not even here", he asked, still not trusting.

"She's doing the same thing to your mother that she did to Willow", Wesley said, not even looking at the boy, still fixated on Darla, clutching her tightly.

At that, Connor's eyes lit up in realization. "She's in her head." He rushed down to Darla's side, opposite Wesley. "Wesley, make this stop."

"I can't interfere", he told the boy sternly. "Darla and Cordelia are far more powerful than I, and there's nothing in the books that can help her. This is a magickal battle, and it can only be fought by magick."

Darla cried out in pain again as another red bolt made her spasm, bucking upwards as her eyes flew wide open in awe and anguish.

_Magick_, Connor thought, angrily. _I knew nothing good could ever come of that junk. And now it's killing my mother…_

"We gotta do something, English!", Gunn insisted. "She can't take another hit like that for much longer!"

"The spell, Wesley!", Fred said. "The one Willow used! That might be able to save Darla!"

"No, it would only delay the inevitable", Wesley said. "That spell only repelled 'Cordelia' for a short time."

"Wait a second!", exclaimed Lorne. "What if we get some more juice? There are four of us, plus Darla that makes five! That's a power number in magick, right?"

"Right! We could all channel our energy into Darla and that could give her the boost she needs to beat back 'Cordy'!", Fred said, looking to Wesley.

"But what was the spell?", Wesley asked. "It was uh…vetcshe…vicksay….?"

"Vaporub!", exclaimed Lorne. All heads turned to him, shaking.

"Worth a shot", he shrugged.

"Yeah, if Darla was about to get killed by a demon chest cold, maybe", Gunn smirked.

"Could you focus for a second?", Connor snapped. "My mother's being killed here!"

Darla's hand crept out and clutched her son's hand. Connor's eyes widened.

"_Connor_…", she rasped out softly, smiling despite the blinding pain.

"Mom", he said almost as softly. He held her hand tightly. "Mom, please…"

"I…_love_ you", she said, coughing as she did.

"Then don't leave me", her son pleaded, a tear trickling down his cheek. "You left me before…don't leave me again. Fight, Mom."

Darla let a sob escape her just before another bolt of light struck into her.

"I…", she managed to gasp. She couldn't finish her sentence.

"Wesley, help her!", Connor desperately turned to the ex-Watcher, his gaze teary-eyed.

Wesley felt a tremendous anger at his helplessness as he willed his mind to work faster, the wheels and gears of his mental powers to grind together. He had to remember that spell. All he knew…all he felt…was that he would not fail Connor again…he wouldn't fail Angel, or his friends…he couldn't fail Darla…

He'd die first.

"Vetche…Vetsche…invadoria…", he mumbled to himself. "Vetsche invadoria…DAMN IT, what was the rest?"

"Disparu!", Fred yelped. "That was it! Vetsche invadoria disparu!"

Everyone's eyes shot to Fred. "I think."

"That was it!", Wesley exclaimed. "Everyone get down here! Now!"

The remaining three AI teammates kneeled in the center of the room, surrounding Wesley, Connor and Darla.

"Everyone hold hands", Wesley instructed them.

"Wes, I don't think singing 'kum-baya' is what the doctor ordered", Gunn said, wryly.

"JUST DO IT!", Wesley roared.

Everyone linked their hands with each other. Lorne to Gunn, Gunn to Fred, Fred to Connor, Connor to Darla, and Darla to Wesley.

"Darla", he said, gently cradling the blonde. "Listen to me…we're lending you our strength…our essence…you need to say this phrase…"

Darla looked like she was fading and out of consciousness more and more.

"Darla, please", Wesley whispered to her ear. "I know it's hard, and I know you're hurting, but you have to remain focused…repeat after me…Vetsche…"

"…V-v….vetsche…", she gasped.

"…Invadoria…"

"Inva-in…vadoria…", she wheezed.

"Disparu…"

"Dis…pa….mgghn" That was all she could manage as she felt herself black out.

"Darla, come on!", Wesley said, shaking her. "Stay with me…don't you quit on me _now_!"

"Mom!", Connor yelled.

The voice of Cordelia chuckled in her head. **_That's right, dear. Just give in…you never were a fighter, Darla. Don't even bother starting now…you can't beat me. And once you're gone, it'll only be a matter of time before my sweet Connor, or should I say…your precious little boy, is back under my control…You can't save him_.** A pause, followed by an evil chuckle. **_You can't even save yourself_**- -

Suddenly, Darla shot up to a sitting position. Her eyes were overtaken with a dark, onyx-like glint, and her face filled with fire, determination…and fury.

A mother's fury.

And at the top of her lungs she bellowed:

"**_Vetsche invadoria disparu_**!"

A white glow emitted from the group as their combined energies traveled into Darla, who suddenly began to glow a bright yellowish hue .

"It's working!", Wesley said in triumph.

Back in the factory, 'Cordelia' felt the sudden shift in power that had occurred. But before she could counter, she felt herself being thrown all the way back into the wall 60 feet behind her. She cried out as the power of the five had flung her all the way back.

She collided with the wall, head-first, and landed on her knees.

"Oh…crap, that hurt like hell", she muttered dizzily. And then she fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

Buffy let out a roar as she sliced the neck of a Bringer climbing across the side of the Winnebago. By now, the Slayers were up to their necks in Bringers as the minions of the First Evil began to climb swarm the Winnebago. 

Faith ducked the swing of an axe-wielding Bringer nimbly as she landed two cross kicks to its stomach and head, following up with a quick inside spin before she jammed her dagger into its stomach. The Bringer fell down quickly over the side.

"Jeez, they're like freakin' flies on sugar", Faith muttered as she went toe-to-toe with another Bringer.

Buffy landed a well-executed roundhouse-left cross- side kick combo on one of the Bringers while keeping the other at bay with her sword. In one sweeping motion, she grabbed the one in front of her and threw it into the Bringer behind her, giving her the time she needed to decapitate both Bringers with a quick, but strong swipe of her blade.

"There's too many of them", she told Faith, giving her a hand and gutting one of the Bringers coming up from behind her while Faith threw her foe over the side.

"We can't outrun them in this hunk of junk, B", Faith panted as she resumed her attack side-by-side with Buffy. "We need to get these creeps off our backs."

"Easier said than done", the elder Slayer commented dryly. "Or have you not looked behind us?"

Faith turned back to the thundering legion coming up behind the convoy, stretching as far as her eye could see.

"Isn't it about time for Willow to pull a rabbit out of her hat and get us the hell outta here?", Faith looked at Buffy briefly before she turned her attention to slicing and dicing a Bringer coming up to her left.

_Willow, can you hear me? _Buffy thought aloud, trying to establish a telepathic link with her best friend. _How soon can you get us out of here? _

**_I dunno_**Willow responded from inside the car**. _Buffy…I don't know if I can do this_**_…_

_You can_, Buffy thought, resolved as she did battle with a Bringer. _I know you can. Because you're Willow. And you can do this._

**_But Buffy- -_**

_You can do this_, Buffy insisted. _Don't make me a liar, Will._

Willow smiled. **_I wouldn't dream of it. _**

Giles glanced back at Willow, concern filling his eyes. He knew that what they were asking her to do was to stretch the borders of her powers, to possibly go back to that dark place, where she had nearly lost herself completely…and dragged the entire world with her.

"Willow…are you positive that you're up to this?", he asked, his voice heavy with worry.

"Honestly…no", she confessed. "But we're running out of time, and there aren't any options left. I have to do this."

"I'll guide you through as best I can", Giles said, taking one hand off the wheel briefly, squeezing the hand of the witch tightly. "Focus yourself. Ground all your energies to the earth…", the Watcher gently instructed. "Let it flow…deep breaths…"

Willow closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in slowly as Giles had instructed…

And when she opened them again, they were a dark steely black.

* * *

Darla collapsed in a heap into Wesley's arms. The ex-Watcher could feel her body quivering with exhaustion. Her eyes were half-closed, a thin film of perspiration lined her forehead, and she looked like she would faint at any moment. 

"Darla?…Darla, can you head me?", Wesley asked, not-too-calmly as he gently shook her.

"Mom? Mom, wake up!" Connor implored as he reached down and touched his mother's face.

"Lorne, is she alright?", Fred asked the clairvoyant demon.

Lorne gave a sweeping glance at Darla, his eyes scrunched in analysis. After a beat, he smiled. "She'll be fine, candy-cane. It looks like 'Cordy' exited stage-left outta there."

"Will she come back?", Gunn asked.

Lorne shrugged. "Anything's possible, Charles. Especially with Mommy Meanest pulling the strings."

"We'll have to find a way to cast a protection spell", Wesley said, looking up at Lorne. "I have a feeling that 'Cordelia' won't be stopping her attempts to kill Darla anytime soon."

"Why is she doing this?" Connor asked Wesley, confused. "This isn't like Cordelia."

"Because it's _not_ Cordelia, Connor. You have to remember that", Wesley said, his voice perfectly even. "Whatever's inside her now, it may look like her, sound like her…but this is a being of malevolent power and unsurpassed evil. It's _not_ our Cordelia."

Connor's eyes cast down to his mother's tired features, and then nodded sadly.

Just then, Angel came in through the door, fully showered and changed into his black pants, purple silk shirt, and black duster. And a lopsided grin on his face.

"Hey guys", he announced, cheerily. "Anything I missed?"

At that, all of them turned to the vampire, and incredulous expression written on their faces.

"What?", Angel asked, confused. He missed something….He _figured_ as much.

* * *

Amidst the crashes of arrows through shattering glass, the gentle 'thwipp!' of plucked bowstrings, the clashing of swords and stomping above her and the distant screaming of girls, Willow chanted. 

_"Goddess Hecate hear my plea,_

_Fill me with your energy,_

_Grant us passage from harm's way,_

_Neither human nor demon let go astray,_

_From this roadway give us depart,_

_And deliver us to our end's heart,_

_Deliver us now from the problem arosen,_

_Unto the Champion, Deliver THE CHOSEN!"_

A bright flash of purple light exploded from her, her hair briefly flashing dark for a moment, the slightest hint of veins showing themselves, before the light consumed everything around her…

Up on the roof, Buffy felt her senses warning her. She could feel something happening. And her instincts screamed at her to take cover.

"FAITH! GET DOWN! **_NOW_**!", she screamed at her fellow Slayer as she ran at her.

"What the - -", was all a confused Faith could muster out before she felt herself being tackled to the floor of the Winnebago by Buffy.

Just before a blinding flash of purple light engulfed them both….

* * *

"So you're saying that 'Cordelia' was here?", Angel scrunched his head. 

"Not here, physically", Wesley said as he lifted Darla gently into a chair. "She contacted Darla the same way she contacted you when you were Angelus."

"Humph. Talk about playin' mind games", Gunn chuckled.

Hearing no laughter, and receiving a blank look from Lorne and Fred, he grumbled. "Sure, a brother can't get no props for adding a little humor to the situation? _Fine_, that's cool."

"What if she comes back?", Connor asked Angel, fear in his eyes apparent. "We don't have any way of protecting Mom."

"I'll manage, baby", the ex-vampire rasped out. "She couldn't get me this time, she won't get me the next."

"We don't know that!", Connor angrily insisted. "You saw her, Mom. She's crazy! She won't stop coming back until she kills you!"

"Then we'll stop her, just like we did this time", Angel assured his son.

" '**_We?_**'", the boy turned an angry look to his father. "Where the hell were **_you_** when she was being attacked? _Huh_? You didn't have **_any_** role in helping her!"

Angel visibly flinched at Connor's angry comment.

"Baby, that's not the point", Darla said, reaching out to him, gently squeezing his hand.

"Yes it is!" he insisted. "If he had been here, maybe we would've stopped her sooner! You're never here when you're needed, are you?" He paused for a beat. "You're never here for me when I need you."

"_Connor_!", Fred scolded, shocked and angry that Connor would still treat his own father like some…animal.

Angel's eyes shone with heavy hurt at that comment. He flashed back to when Holtz leapt through that portal to Quor-toth with his infant son in hand.

"I'm sorry", he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Connor - -", Wesley tried to interject.

"Don't defend him!" the boy spat. Turning back to Angel, he said, "And you're supposed to be a champion? What kind of a champion lets down the people he claims to love?"

"_Conner, that's enough_!", Darla suddenly sat up, her face set in anger.

All took a step back in surprise, as Darla seemed to have found new strength so quickly.

Connor's eyes went wide with astonishment as his mother glared at him.

"Don't _ever_ talk to your father like that! He's a _wonderful_ man, and he's risked more to help you, me and everyone he loves than you could _ever_ know", she said, her voice shaking with emotion. "He's a champion by the truest definition of the word. And you _will_ show him the respect that he deserves, young man. Because he deserves it."

She glanced up at Angel, a faint smile on her lips. "Every last bit."

Connor frowned, and then lowered his eyes. "Yes, mom", he sighed, defeated.

"Now, don't you have something to say?", Darla arched an eyebrow at him.

Connor scowled. "I am _not_ apologizing."

"_YES YOU ARE_!", everyone except Angel shouted at him.

Connor sulked as he stood up to face his father. "Fine…Dad…I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Angel smirked. "No, you're not. But at least you said 'I'm sorry.'" He patted his son on the back. "That's good manners."

Despite himself, Connor felt a hint of a smile coming on at his Dad's easy going behavior.

"Wow, _Connor_ apologizing", Gunn whistled. "This day just keeps getting' weirder and weirder."

"Yeah", Fred said. "Well, let's hope that it doesn't get any more weird. I don't know about y'all, but I could do without any more out-of-the-blue-surprises."

No sooner had she said that, than when a loud screech of heavy tires echoed outside the Hyperion, followed by the shattering of glass, twisting of metal and the crashing sound of metal-meets-wall echoing throughout the hotel.

Everyone jumped.

Angel's eyes morphed from concern to alert. "Wes, grab Darla. Take her down with us. If there's any trouble, I want you to take her out the emergency exit near the side of the staircase. The rest of you, follow me."

In a rush, the Fang Gang marched through the hallway, and came barreling down the stairs.

They stopped momentarily at the foot of the stairs at what they saw.

Lorne gasped. "What in the name of NASCAR- -?"

A massive wreckage of overly large vehicles…well, at least they were at one time vehicles…had plowed through the entrance of the hotel, taking most of the front lobby out of commission. The Front door was completely obliterated, as was most of the wall surrounding the entrance. A large white mass of twisted metal lay at the head of the mess, steam and exhaust pouring out of it. Behind it were what appeared to be school buses, tipped over and crushed.

A small coughing sound came from the wreckage and suddenly, the metal was heaved away by a pair of small hands.

Angel was stunned. He didn't think it was possible to survive a crash like that. He was pretty sure nothing could. Well, nothing human, anyway.

Off of the twisted metal, the large sheets peeled back to reveal a dusty, coughing, Faith, who, oblivious for the moment to her new surrounding, lifted another heavy piece of metal back off the wreckage. "B!", she called, worried as she scanned the wreckage for any signs of life. "Buffy! Where are you?"

"Down here", a female groan came from one side of the rubble, before a hand shot up and threw back the wreckage on top of it with ease.

Angel felt his world halt as the rubble gave way to the next sight….a sight that a small part of him began to doubt he'd ever see again.

There, standing in the rubble, was his beloved.

Buffy Summers. The Vampire Slayer.

"You okay?" Faith asked her fellow slayer.

Buffy smiled wryly. "Five by five."

"Hey, don't go stealing my lines, now, B" Faith chuckled.

Buffy's eyes went wide. "Omigod…the others! Dawn! Willow! Xander! Giles!" she began to frantically call out as she tripped though the rubble in search of them.

All eyes suddenly turned to the rubble, where a large churning and lurching of metal began to stir.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Gunn wondered.

"They're here", Darla answered quietly.

Suddenly, the rubble began to slowly and surely levitate itself off of the ground. They all stood in awe as the heavy, seemingly endless rubble floated up gently into the air as if weighing nothing at all. The rubble gave way to reveal a focused Willow, her face extenuating effort, as she held the rubble up over her head.

"Everybody out! MOVE IT!" she barked back to the rest of the people behind her, a purple glow surrounding them.

No sooner had she said that , than had the gaggle of teenage girls, smattered with a few males leading their frightened charges, quickly darted out from under the rubble.

Willow's hands trembled as she thundered her next command:

"_Recursum Gaie!"_

In a flash, the rubble above had vanished into nowhere.

"Magick is soo cool" Amanda gasped in awe. Dawn could only chuckle at that. She had seen Willow do much more than that. She knew that for the redheaded witch, that was barely a warm-up. Or, at least, it wasn't before she had to go cold-turkey on the magick.

Willow wobbled or a brief instant, before Xander and Buffy rushed forth to catch her.

"Woah…what a rush", Willow shook her head.

"Willow, you okay?" Xander asked, fanning his best friend's face, propping her up against him.

"Yeah…I've gotta start practicing again…I'm getting a little too winded or this", Willow panted back as she pushed herself to her own two feet.

"Will she be okay?", a concerned Molly asked.

"I think she'll be fine", Buffy assured the Slayer-in-Training.

"Uh, guys…where the bananas _are_ we?" a confused Andrew pointed out.

At that, the Sunnydale crew took in their surroundings. They saw in wonder that they were now in a rather large hotel, a beautiful one at that…notwithstanding the giant hole let by the wreckage at the entrance of the hotel.

"Um, excuse me?", Fred's voice called to them. "But I think y'all might've taken a wrong turn or some- - oh, HEY, Willow!" she finished giddily.

The group turned to the seven strangers standing at the base of the stairs.

Both groups stared at each other with some suspicion.

Angel's voice broke the silence. "Buffy."

At that soft, familiar voice, Buffy turned and locked eyes with the one man on Earth that she loved more than herself.

Her eyes went wide, throat dry. She could barely believe it was him. Standing up there, looking as handsome as ever.

It was him.

Her voice was but a breath. "Angel."

Neither of them said anything else. Simply holding the moment.

Seeing everyone else was either too timid, scared or glaring at one another to make a comment, Willow cleared her throat, waving warmly at Fred, before grinning sheepishly and addressing the Fang Gang with the only thing that could come to mind.

"Oh…hey guys! Ummm…did we come at a bad time?"

* * *

T B C 


	7. PREVIEW

x A/N : Hey, guys! I'm so touched by the outpouring of get-wells you guys gave to me and my family, especially my mother during these difficult times. It was very moving. Thanks to all who wrote reviews, especially to all you guys who sent your best wishes to my mother. Especially :

Punkassbitch - You're right. Joss left the events in the Buffy and Angel-verses wide open for a tie-up. Glad you like the puns and such. It took me a bit to get into the character's heads. And as for your suggestion with Faith and Spike? Hmmm...interesting pairing. I'll take it into account.

Michelle - Hope you got my e-mail of the chapter 2 of the story. Wow, it's so cool to get a review from as far away as England! Which part of England are you from? London? Manchester? Thanks so much for being concerned about my mother.

Tariq - Your suggestions are very much appreciated. They've helped me consider some angles I haven't taken into account! Please keep reviewing and let me know what else you think.

shahid - I see you're a bit of a Wesley fan, ain't cha:) Well, lucky you, so am I ! Thanx for the reviews and keep your eye on Wesley's romantic life in his story.

Eternal Darkness - Glad you like my Darla / Wesley idea. Cool, huh?

Burning Toast - Happy you enjoy it! BTW, your stories kick major ass!

Imzadi - To quote Wesley , "There is a design in the chaos...and everyone has their place in it." Stay tuned to see what that means. Hint.

FerretGirl - Again, thanks for the review. You've stuck with this story since almost the begining. I appreciate that!

Angelfirenze - Heh, that part where Darla laid the smackdown on Connor was pretty cool, huh? Figured that he needed to get a bit of a check. And don't think that's the end of Darla's 'Mothering' side, either. Connor and Darla have a lot to work through, as do Connor and Angel. Should be a twist to see how that ends up.

isabel - Your review was SO on target! I'm glad you got the real jist of that chapter; that's exactly what I was hoping everyone else would get from it. PS are you from England too?

SJ Smith - Thanks for reviewing. TWICE! Glad you liked the Kennedy smackdown. That chick needed a pretty good ass-kicking for a while. As for Lindsey returning...

And last, but certainly not least:

Buffy Fan - Don't worry, friend. I wasn't trying to give you the verbal bitch slap. I guess I could have worded that last comment a little bit better. Wrote it during a bad day. But hey, I'm cool if you're cool, okay? No harm, no foul? Amigos, yeah? Thanks ;)

Let me explain the sitch: Good news is, my mother has finally recovered her full health. YAAAY!

Bad news is, some sht happened over the last two months and I'm sorta, kinda….homeless.

Yes.

Homeless.

As in, sans house. No home. Sin casa.

But, my family and I are with some friends right now, so at least we've got shelter until the deal on our new house can be finalized.

So, you see, I haven't been able to review in a while working with just one laptop computer, which I 've had almost no time to work with thanks to my work schedule and my two brothers hogging it. That and the fact that I'm not exactly free to do what I please in someone else's house.

SO, here's a little preview of the next chapter to tide you guys over until July 21st ,when the newest installment of BRING ME TO LIFE will be released. And believe me, you won't believe how this chapter ends!

And to all you guys out there, I love, love. LUUV your feedback, even if you weren't mentioned here. Keep reading and reviewing and maybe I'll shout you a holla next time. And believe me, once the chaotic mess that is my life gets sorted out, this story WILL be updated faster. Till then, enjoy...

!PREVIEW!

Bring Me To Life

Chapter 6 - Reunited (And it feels so...well...)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"The time for waiting is over", the First/Buffy growled. "Send a group to L.A...but wait until I give the word for attack. And you..."

The First/Buffy walked over to one of the Bringers. "Head down South. Bring...him...up to Sunnydale. It's time I summoned forth a champion of my own."

The First/Buffy walked over to a slab of rocks, heaped away by a bunch of laboring Bringers with power tools.

"Well, they might not have finished the job yet", the First thought aloud. "But let's see what I can whip up with a little...imagination."

At that, the malevolent being let loose a fiery bolt of red and black mystical energies from its "hands", which encircled the pile of rubbled stone and rocks. The swirl began its encirclement, swallowing the rocks whole and sending them spinning in a black cyclone of energy.

The First smiled evilly as the swirl reached its chaotic crescendo of blinding speed, until, at last, a pair of feet began to materialize from the bottom of the cyclone. Then large, strong legs. Then a torso, a strong imposing chest, broad shoulders, and at last a head.

A hideous, horned head.

Spike came to the front, dusting himself off. "Well, dunno 'bout the rest of you, but I'm certainly workin' up a pretty penny on me dry cleaning bill. Any of you how hard it is to get a leather coat clean of all this - -"

He stopped when he looked up. Straight into the eyes of his GrandSire.

"Oh. It's you." Spike rolled his eyes.

Angel's gaze broke from Buffy to Spike when he noticed him coming to the forefront of the group.

"Spike", he gritted his teeth.

Darla's eyes widened in recognition as she saw her Great Grandchilde. "Spike?...William?", she gasped.

Hearing his real name, the blonde vampire directed his gaze towards the woman. Upon thus, his jaw dropped in shock.

"Wait a minute...D-Darla?"

END OF PREVIEW

Write and review, guys! Remember, JULY 21st! The story WILL be updated then!

JULY 21st, 2003!

Next week!

Till then….

All my love,

Jean - TheGuardian

TBC…….


	8. Part6 Reunited and it hurts like hell

A/N: Anybody know if Angel's being renewed yet? If they get cancelled, I'ma be super-pissed.

Oh, well.

Thanks to ALL of you for sticking with me during this very arduous period in my life. The support has been very heartwarming, especially from Eternal Darkness, Linnea, Eliza Rosenburg, Buffy Fan, pru, Megan, S J Smith, LissaMarie, Phi, IceQueen8, LanFear1 and the 2nd Evil. YOU GUYS ROCK!

I don't know how I managed to do it, but after a few sleepless nights, this chapter has finally been finished. YAAAY!

(Hem-hem…sorry 'bout that)

My sincere apologies for having taken as long as I have to do this, but you all know my situation by now. Anyway, it looks like we'll be situated in a REAL home within a week's time. I'm holding my breath for that one. I can't wait to start taping Buffy Season 7 re-runs that I've missed.

By the way, I found out that Charisma Carpenter's not going to be a regular in Season 5, assuming there is one. I'm really sad about that, having watched and enjoyed her presence in the Buffy-verse for 7 years. Best of luck to her and her newborn baby!

Enjoy this (At long last) latest chapter of...

* * *

Bring Me To Life 

Part 6 - Reunited (And it feels so...well...)

* * *

From the vineyard, viewing all of these events unfolding before its omniscient eyes, the First Evil, in the form of Buffy Summers, was very displeased. 

"This is...most disturbing", the First/Buffy scowled. "The Slayer and her pals were never meant to find their way to that meddlesome vampire's city. That could out a serious dent in my plans."

Now, rare was the day that the First Evil was ever angry or nervous. After all, it never had any reason to be. Being incorporeal, it could neither be fought nor killed. But with the same token, it could never act on its own. And while it might have been diabolically clever, a gift that came with being around since before the dawn of time, that meant it had to take up a lot of faith in its followers and those it manipulated. Something that hadn't always panned out.

Especially against this Slayer and her friends.

And now, they were reunited with the Champion, Angel, and his gang. This had the makings of a nightmare scenario for the First. And that made it nervous. And when it became nervous, it became angry.

Very angry.

It took a look behind to the awaiting Harbingers, standing ready in wait for command.

"The time for waiting is over", the First/Buffy growled. "Send a group to L.A...but wait until I give the word for attack. And you..."

The First/Buffy walked over to one of the Bringers. "Head down South. Bring...him...up to Sunnydale. It's time I summoned forth a champion of my own."

The First/Buffy walked over to a slab of rocks, heaped away by a bunch of laboring Bringers with power tools.

"Well, they might not have finished the job yet", the First thought aloud. "But let's see what I can whip up with a little...imagination."

At that, the malevolent being let loose a fiery bolt of red and black mystical energies from its "hands", which encircled the pile of rubbled stone and rocks. The swirl began its encirclement, swallowing the rocks whole and sending them spinning in a black cyclone of energy.

The First smiled evilly as the swirl reached its chaotic crescendo of blinding speed, until, at last, a pair of feet began to materialize from the bottom of the cyclone. Then large, strong legs. Then a torso, a strong imposing chest, broad shoulders, and at last a head.

A hideous, horned head.

The figure dropped to its hands and knees, its new life breathed into its raw form, a natural exhaustion from the birth process set in.

The First/Buffy sauntered up to its new creation, smiling flirtatiously as it bent down to eye the creature face to face.

"You will do my bidding", the First/Buffy wickedly smiled. "And you, my sweet, will be my left arm of destruction...and the last sight that the Slayer and her beloved Champion will ever see."

The creature said nothing, keeping its face to the ground. And then, gradually, it let out a small, low chuckle. It was neither jolly nor pleasant, but disturbing and bone-chilling.

And the chuckle built itself up to a deep, evil laughter.

A laughter which echoed throughout the vineyard, piercing the night, frightening away the birds in the trees, the squirrels on the ground, and the ducks floating peacefully on the water.

All of them heading for safety. For higher ground. For anyplace to get away from the origin of that chilling laugh.

...the origin of which would come the darkest, most destructive force seen by man or beast, dead or living...

...a force that would now set its sights on the world's last hope for survival...

Its champions.

* * *

The Hyperion stood silent for a few moments, the dozens of people on the inside now standing around, looking suspiciously at each other. 

Buffy stood at the front of the group, taking a few tentative steps forward. She could still not see anyone, hear anyone else.

Except the tall, dark and very handsome vampire standing not but a few steps up from her.

"Angel?"

She said that name with a quiet hope. Almost a childish awe. Like a little girl staring up at Santa Claus for the very first time. She said that name so softly, as if in fear of scaring him away if she spoke too loudly.

She couldn't believe that it was him.

Angel.

Her Angel...even if he wasn't really hers to have.

Her voice jolted the Champion out of his stunned reverie. "Buffy...what...? You're...here."

At long last.

She was here.

The thought alone was enough to make his soul sing, but to have her here, now, alive and beautiful, even more so than ever, if such a thing were possible, sent waves of shock and joy throughout his body.

Buffy...

His sweet, beautiful, brave Buffy... was here at last. She had come back to him.

"Angel...wh-what are you doing here?", she continued, blinking back her surprise.

Angel looked at her incredulously. "Um... I live here"

Buffy blushed, embarrassed. "Oh. Right. Of course."

"Always knew how to make an entrance, didn't you?", Angel chuckled, staring poignantly at the gaping whole in the center of the Hyperion.

"Well, you know me", Buffy shrugged with a smile. "Never much for the knocking."

Angel stared at her for a beat. "I've…you know…"

Buffy nodded. "I know." Then she smiled. "I have, too."

The half-smile that now adorned his face was still enough to make her sway. But she gathered up whatever resolve she had in her system to maintain her composure…however difficult it might be around him.

The tingling sensation, their sacred bond between their souls was now humming, vibrating in both of them. Every drop of love, of hope, of passion etched into that pure link that bound them for all eternity.

Connor said nothing, only took in the interaction between this girl that had arrived and his father. It was apparent to him that there was more between those two than meets the common eye. And judging by the scent those two were giving off now, perhaps they were even romantically involved.

That alone was enough to raise his interest in these new people that crashed through the hotel walls unceremoniously.

Wesley took a moment before coming down the stairs. "Buffy?"

At the sound of his voice, the moment broke around the two star-crossed warriors. Buffy turned to gaze in surprise yet again at the man who she recognized only by face to be her former Watcher.

"_Wesley_?" She could barely register that this rugged, weary-looking yet handsome man was the snooty, pretentious Watcher she knew years ago.

"You look...well", he stated simply, but managing a faint smile at his former charge.

"You look..._hot_", she cocked an eyebrow at him, obviously approving.

A dry, somewhat exhausted smirk grew on Wesley's face. "Not something I planned on, but...thank you."

"'Sup, Angel?" Faith smiled warmly as she greeted the vampire.

"Hey", Angel nodded in response. "How're your ribs holding up?" He was referring to the injuries to her ribcage she sustained when attacked by both Angelus and the Beast during the rampage in L.A.

"Healing nicely", the dark-haired Slayer shrugged. "Slayer powers definitely have advantages."

"Hey, Angel", Willow greeted, edging to the front alongside Buffy. "Looking good, as always."

"Hey, Willow. A _pleasure_, as always", Angel nodded, smiling.

"Aww, you're just saying that cuz I helped put back your so--" At Buffy's look of confusion, Willow blurted out, " --veriegnty! Your so-vereignty over Los Angeles!"

Angel scrunched his eyebrows. "Sovereignty?"

_I didn't tell Buffy about your little lack-of-soul problem a while back yet,_ Willow telepathically explained to the Champion. _So play along, GOT IT?_

"Oh...OH! My SO-vereignty! Right", Angel chuckled nervously. "Yeah, can't be losing that now...that could only lead to...badness."

Buffy cast a suspicious look at him. "Uh-huh", she said.

"Um...SO! Wesley! Great to see you again!", Willow changed the topic rather quickly, opting to talk to the handsome ex-Watcher instead. "And still with the extra-stubbly machismo."

"Hello, Willow", Wesley greeted with added warmth and another faint smile.Seeing Faith just behind Willow, he managed a polite nod. "Faith."

"Wes", she returned in kind, with a small smirk on her face. She hated to admit it, but she was actually starting to like this side of Wesley. He seemed more real now, less of the prim and proper, more of the down and dirty. And besides, he was much hotter like this.

"Hi, Wesley", Dawn chirped up from behind.

Wesley turned to Dawn, blinking in surprise. "Dawn. You've grown up...I've missed a lot, it would seem."

Dawn shrugged. "Not so much...well, okay, a ton, but that's later stuff, okay?" She gave a wave towards Angel's direction. "Hi, Angel! It's been a while."

After staring at the Slayer's sister for a moment, he spoke. "It's amazing", Angel said.

"What's amazing?", Dawn asked, puzzled.

"Every time I see you, I see more and more of your mother", Angel smiled. Although he knew that technically, this was only the second time he had actually met Dawn, the memories he had of Buffy's little sister were kind, warm ones.

Dawn was taken aback by the unexpected compliment. She had to fight the tears that stung at her eyes for a moment at the mention of her late mother. "Thank you", she smiled. "It means a lot to me."

"So…This is Wesley? He looks all dark and...sexually desirable", Anya noted.

Xander coughed in some surprise.

Darla crinkled her nose at that. The remark made her more than a little bit jealous.

"You must be Anya", Wesley chuckled, amused by the girl's blunt honesty. "Willow's told me about you."

"None of that's true!", Anya said defensively.

Wesley looked at her in surprise. "She told me you come in handy against fighting the forces of evil."

Anya blinked, stunned. Even after some of Willow's attempts to mend the bridges between them after the Magick Shop met its fiery demise, she had come to expect the witch to paint a very black-and-white portrait of her to others,with heavy emphasis on the black. To hear that Willow actually talked her up to someone was surprising...and welcome."Except for the stuff that's SO true!", she backpedaled, beaming a pleased smile.

Giles silently moved to the forfront. "Angel", he nodded politely, managing a faint, curteous smile.

"Giles", Angel nodded in kind, with a mirrored smile. "How've you been?"

The exchange between her ex-lover and her surrogate father figure did not go unnoticed by Buffy. It saddened her to think back at how their once-promising friendship had collapsed almost entirely after the four-month rampage Angelus had unleashed on Sunnydale years ago. Angelus had commited many unspeakable horrors during that short-lived, but violent reign of terror, among them the brutal murder of Jenny Calendar and the sadistic torturing Giles endured at the vampire's hands. And although Giles had eventually learned to forgive a very contrite Angel, Buffy knew that their relationship would never be quite the same as it once was.

"Um...apocalypse", Giles smirked, almost embarrased. "And you?"

"Apocalypse", Angel sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

Giles' keen eyes soon turned tohis former replacement. "Pryce?", Giles said in astonishment as he eyed the younger man."My God...you look...tested."

"In more ways than one I'm afraid, Rupert", he said, as he walked over to his former co-Watcher. "Good to see you again...though I wish it were under different circumstances."

"You've heard...about the Council?", Giles asked, hesitating briefly before finishing the question.

Wesley nodded grimly, his eyes reflecting his darkened emotions.

"Then you know about...your father?", Giles asked quietly, the elder Watcher's eyes sadly gazing at his quasi-protégée.

Wesley said nothing, only cast his eyes down like heavy stones.

Giles sighed, sympathetically. True, he and Wesley hada terrible start when they first met, a large sense of emnity developing between them over Buffy's guidance. But over the years, as they had conversed via telephone, Giles had noticed the changes slowly start to develop within Wesley, and had come to slowly respect, even like the man whom the Watchers Council designated as his replacement.

There was much empathy as Giles placed his hand on the young ex-Watcher's shoulder. "Then you know what we have to do...what..._he_...would have wanted you to do."

Wesley's eyes met Giles for a moment, a silent understanding passing between the two men.

The electricity of the moment was broken when Andrew said, "Wow. The last two Watchers convening together as one to salvage the last of their kind and the fate of the world hangs in the balance...it's just like that part in Star Trek :Generations, where Captain Picard and Captain Kirk meet in the time continuum and agree to go on the dangerous mission to stop the evil - -"

"Andrew!", Kennedy snapped. "Nobody cares, okay, Spock-boy?"

Andrew flailed his arms in a huff before pouting and folding them across his chest. "Fine. Nobody gets me."

"That's because the Star Trek convention is a couple states away, Chewbacca", Rona wryly grinned.

"Actually, _ST Con 2003 _is in San Diego this year. I have all-access passes to this year's convention, 'cause last year, I had to miss it on the count of a bad case of mono, but - -"

"Andrew", Molly sighed. "How many times are we supposed to gag you before you realize that there are more important issues at hand than your silly convention?"

Andrew sulked as he walked over to the back of the group.

"Wes?...Wow! You're looking all...manly", Xander said, impressed at the former Watcher's appearance.

Wesley rolled his eyes at that comment. He always found that Harris boy to be a bit of a nitwit. "Hello to you too, Xander", he sighed.

"Yeah, well...so, Angel!", Xander turned his attention to the vampire. "Long time, no see, Deadboy. Nice place you got here."

"Xander", Angel greeted with an exasperated sigh. Even after all this time, Xander still had a way of bugging him. "For the umpteenth time, _stop_ calling me that."

"Angel, what's going on? Who the hell are these people?", Gunn asked, still suspicious.

"Relax, Charles", Fred rolled her eyes with a smile. "Willow and Faith are here, so they must be that famous 'Scooby Gang' we've heard so much about."

"Um, actually, due to contract infringements, we go by 'that crazy group of teenagers with that dog solving mysteries in a van'", Xander quipped. After a beat, he added, "Or at least we would if we had a dog. And a van. And if we were _all_...you know, teenagers."

"You must be Xander", Fred deduced.

"Ah, so you've heard of me", Xander beamed with pride. "No doubt Cordy and Angel have mentioned my usefulness in the face of danger, my quick thinking...my razor sharp wit?"

Fred paused a beat, considering her words. "Actually, they...mentioned you talked a lot...like, ramble-talked a lot."

Xander's face deflated. "Oh." Had Cordelia seen that face first-hand, she would have had to chuckle. It was a classic 'Harris Moment', as she had teased him when they were dating years ago.

"So", Buffy said to Angel, taking in the people before her. "This is Angel Investigations, huh? Nice group of people you've got- -" She stopped when she saw Lorne. "Demon. There's a _demon_! Why is there a green, horned demon here and no one seems interested in the least?"

"Whoa, easy, Buttercup", Lorne held up his hands. "I'm one of the good guys here."

"Oh, well, in that case- - wait a minute. Did you just call me Buttercup?" Buffy scrunched her eyebrows in confusion.

"Would you prefer Sweet Doodle?" Lorne grinned.

Willow sighed, thanking Hecate that at least one amongst them was in the loop on things...and even more thankful that it wasn't Xander. "It's okay, Buffy. That's Lorne. He's a friend. Uses his powers for good."

"Oh...you mean like Clem", Buffy said.

"Sort of, but...he's a bit braver. Lorne, that is", Willow shrugged, a smile suddenly brightening her face as she remembered one of Lorne's many talents. "Plus, he does a mean version of 'Heard It Through the Grapevine.'"

"He sings?" Buffy asked, turning to Lorne. "You sing?"

"Well, not to toot my own horns, but…", Lorne chuckled. "I've been told I've got quite a set of pipes. You should hear my Motown. I do a version of Aretha Franklin's 'Respect' that'll knock your socks off!"

"I think it's about time for introductions", Angel sighed, knowing that a meet-and-greet was probably the only way he could avoid bloodshed between the two tightly-knit groups. "Buffy, everyone, I'd like you to meet my crew. Most of you already know myself and Wesley." He pointed to Gunn first. "Charles Gunn. He's our strongest human fighter. Used to run a demon-hunting crew down here up until he joined us."

"Nice to meet you", Buffy smiled as she extended her hand.

"Likewise", Gunn replied, eying the small blonde from head-to-toe. He had heard Angel and Wesley, and occasionaly Cordelia (although not so much from her), mention the famed fighting prowess of the Sunnydale Slayer, but the ever-skeptical Gunn was still surprised to see that this cute, tiny, cheerleader-type blonde could be the unstoppable demon-killing machine he had heard so much about. "So, you're Buffy, huh? _The_ Buffy? Wow, I've gotta say, never come face-to-face with a chick I've been intimidated by, but I guess there's a first for everything."

"Don't worry", Buffy winked mischievously at the taller man. "I'll go easy on you."

Seeing the interaction between the two, Fred nudged Angel with her elbow, poignantly making motions with her eyes to introduce her next.

"Oh…Oh! Right. This is Fred. Fred Burkle. She's our resident physicist and inventor. She joined our crew after we rescued her from Pylea."

"Py-What-A?", both Buffy and Xander wondered aloud.

"Pylea, Sweet Doodle", Lorne told Buffy. "My home dimension. And believe me, once you check in, everyone's just waiting to check the hell outta THAT dump."

"HI!", Fred enthusiastically approached Buffy. "So…you're Buffy? Gosh, I-I mean, WOW! Angel and Cordy talk about you a lot, well, not so much Cordy, 'cause when she mentions you, Angel has something called 'Buffy-face'. Is it really true that you came back from Heaven? What's heaven like? I've read some really interesting theories on paranormal phenomena that hypothesize that Heaven is actually a small time anomaly intersected right at the center of the entire time continuum itself - -"

"Whoa, Fred!", Buffy held up her hand to stop the sudden verbal bombardment that came from the girl. "Slow down. My brain can't process language that fast." After a small beat, she continued, smiling. She had no idea why, but she liked the girl already. There was something about her that gave off a powerful Willow-like vibe. "So, this is the famous Fred that Willow's mentioned to me before. It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"And they say _I _talk a lot", Xander pfft quietly. Not quietly enough to avoid Angel's and Buffy's super-sensitive hearing, though. As he found when both turned to him and shot him disapproving glares.

"What?", he shrugged, oblivious, as usual.

Willow looked over her shoulder at Kennedy, who stood back none-too-patiently, arms folded across her chest. "Ken, this is Fred. Fred, Kennedy."

"Pleased to meet you", Fred greeted with equal enthusiasm.

Kennedy stared at the attractive, slender brunette, a thin, facetious smile on her face that did little to mask the jealous glimmer in her dark eyes. "Likewise I'm sure", she replied, her tone saturated with forced courtesy.

"Fred's one of the only people I know of besides me that can count Phi tables in reverse", Willow trumpeted proudly. "It's really quite amazing."

Buffy did not miss the feigned look of fascination on Kennedy's face. Despite the fact that she personally did not like this girl in the least, Buffy knew that her duty as a best friend morally obliged her to be happy for Willow regardless of her own feelings. And if there was one thing Buffy Summers had intimate knowledge with, it was the pain-staked notion of duty. So Buffy had to grin and bear it; if she could accept her role as a Slayer since her calling at 15, then she could bear to stomach the willful, often-rude girl her best friend had chosen for herself. _Or was chosen **for** her, anyway_, Buffy dryly thought.

"Remember, last time you were here how we ran into that naughty equation?", Fred chuckled.

"Yeah…2.4169!", both girls exclaimed aloud, before breaking off into hysterical peels of laughter.

Everyone else was standing at a loss as to what was so hilarious about a decimal number.

"We have just entered the Nerd Zone", Faith smirked.

Both Fred and Willow ceased their laughter when they realized they were the only ones laughing.

"Um…I guess you had to be there", Willow shrugged.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just dying…of embarrassment for that dribble", Skip snorted.

Buffy's eyes ticked to the entrapped demon. "Who's that?"

"That", Lorne pointed to Skip, "is one of the bad guys, MoonPie."

"Is he a hostage?", Andrew piqued up.

"Basically", Angel said, returning his gaze to Buffy. "His name is Skip."

"Skip?" Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Out of all the cool evil villain names out there, one of them drew the short straw and got _Skip_?"

"Yeah, right?", Andrew snorted. "Nothing like Dr. Doom, or the Violator, or Darkseid, or even Bulls-Eye. You know, I'm really digging the new Bulls-Eye in the _DareDevil_ movie, 'cause the original comic version of Bulls-Eye looked like a giant blueberry in a ---"

"Andrew", Xander snapped. "See this?" He made a trickling-down gesture from his head with his hands. "That's all the caring, flying right out of our ears."

Off the Fang Gang's confused look, she shrugged. "That's Andrew. He's new-ish here. Don't bother listening to him. _We_ don't."

"Anyway", Angel continued, taking her advice and ignoring Andrew's outburst, "Skip's in cahoots with whatever's taken over Cordy. So far, we've gotten a few bits and pieces out of him as to what's the deal with the Master Plan."

"So, what's the sitch?", Willow asked. "And what does any of this have to do with the First Evil?"

"We're hoping our…friend…can impart us with that information", Wesley replied, his eyes sweeping derisively over Skip.

"Keep dreaming", Skip arrogantly sneered. "Whatever's coming next, it's something beyond any of your puny comprehensions. We're talking Evil Incarnate, here. Power beyond power. And whatever you chump-sickles think you can whip up and throw at me, it's nothing compared to what I'll be facing if I spill the beans."

Buffy walked over to face Skip, a menacing gleam in her green eyes. "I wouldn't be too sure of that…_Skippy_."

Skip knew full well who it was that was standing before him, so that knowledge, coupled with that murderouslook in the tiny blonde's eyes made him more than a bit nervous, but the demon swallowed hardand attempted to cover up with false bravado. "Buffy Summers. So,_ you're_ that famous Slayer the underworld's been quaking in fear over, huh?" He snorted. "I've seen better."

"Have you really?", Buffy said in a mock-fear voice. "Well, gosh, what'll I do? Hey, look, guys, the big, ugly metal demon said he's seen better. I can feel my self-esteem splintering away as we speak." Her eyes regarded him, unimpressed. "And just what are _you_ supposed to be? Some demon spirit trapped in the body of a washing machine? Maybe an off-Broadway Wizard of Oz reject? Ooh, I know! Maybe…some blind kid in Metal Shop 101 made a project out of you from recycled buckets and wished _really_ hard for you to become a _real _boy!"

Angel chuckled softly. God how he'd missed that sense of humor of hers. The way she could get under any bad guy's skin. It was one of the things that made her so special, so…so Buffy.

"Make jokes all you want, Slayer", Skip snarled, obviously annoyed. "But the fact is, you're in way over your head on this one. When it arrives, it'll make damn sure that the third death's a charm for you. And this time, you won't come back from Paradise. Or, wherever it decides to send you."

"Haven't you told your buddies back at Evil, incorporated yet?", Buffy smiled, but with a hint of danger lurking under her expression. "The more times you send someone to blow up the world, the more times I send them back on their asses. Stick around and you'll see." She paused a beat. "Or then again, I guess you'll have to, you know, 'cause you're a prisoner and all?"

Skip growled in irritancy.

Suddenly, Spike came to the front, dusting himself off. "Well, dunno 'bout the rest of you, but I'm certainly workin' up a pretty penny on me dry cleaning bill. Any of you how hard it is to get a leather coat clean of all this - -"

He stopped when he looked up. Straight into the eyes of his GrandSire.

"Oh. It's you." Spike rolled his eyes.

Angel's gaze broke from Buffy to Spike when he noticed him coming to the forefront of the group. Upon his eyes landing on the face of his platinum-blonde CrandChilde, the warm look on his face flashed in surprise, then grew frigid with a stone-cold scowl.

"Spike", he all but growled as he gritted his teeth at the very unwelcome appearance of the irritating vampire.

Darla's eyes widened in recognition as she saw her Great Grandchilde. "Spike?...William?", she gasped.

Hearing his real name, the blonde vampire directed his gaze towards the woman. Upon thus, his jaw dropped in shock.

"Wait a minute...D-Darla?"

"Darla?", Willow's head darted around, until she met on with Darla's face. Willow was the only core member of the Scoobies to have actually seen Darla's human _and_ vampire faces. "Omigod! Buffy, it's Darla!"

"_Darla_?", Xander and Dawn exclaimed in alarm.

"Darla? The vampire?", Anya looked around.

_Uh-oh_, Darla thought, concerned at the alarm over her presence. _This can't go well…_

Buffy 's eyes locked onto Darla's form. "What..?" The slayer's mind made the connection. Mentally adding some wrinkles to her brow and other demonic features, and she was a perfect match for the vampiress who was her first opponent in Sunnydale. Her mind flashed back to that fateful night at the bronze, when the vampiress came at her, her twin Colt .45's blazing bullets as everything around that darkness flashed with the deadly gunfire.

The same one who tried to kill her…and Angel…

And her mother.

Darla drew in a shaky breath before softly addressing the Slayer. "Hello, Buffy."

"Darla", Buffy whispered, before her eyes narrowed. "Xander…stake me!"

"What?", Connor asked, puzzled as to what was going on. He turned to his mother, who was frozen in place, an uncertain expression on her features.

Automatically, Xander tossed her a stake.

Angel held up his hands. "Buffy, wait, don't - -"

But before he could say another word, the stake came whizzing through the air, with deadly precision…right at Darla's heart.

"NO!", Wesley leapt towards Darla, intending to shield the smaller woman, who was frozen with a 'deer-in-the-headlights' expression on her face. But he was moving a half-second too slow, a half-step too late as the stake neared its target…

Just then, a hand shot out and snatched the stake in mid-air. Mere inches from Darla's heart.

Connor held the stake so tight that it was starting to splinter.

Buffy was stunned. She didn't think that anyone could have moved that fast. Well, no one human, anyway.

Connor's icy gaze pierced the Slayer's eyes. There was something familiar about those eyes. Something she couldn't put her finger on…but it was very familiar…

Before she could form another thought, however, Connor drew out his knife from his belt and launched himself in an unbelievable vertical leap right at Buffy.

"Connor, don't!", Darla called to him.

But as he landed he lashed out at the Slayer, knife slicing through the air. Buffy's instincts kicked in as she ducked nimbly under the knife, blocking Connor's next blow with her forearm while she landed a roundhouse kick to his stomach. She tried for a second, which Connor grabbed. With one good twist, Buffy spun helplessly through the air until she landed hard on her back.

He moved to advance when a young girl about his age stepped in his path.

"Don't!", Dawn simply said, her tone pleading.

Their eyes met almost instantly. And the one known as the Destroyer felt his entire world stop around him.

He'd been around in the world long enough to have seen pretty girls, even beautiful ones. Cordelia, of course, being the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Until now.

Her huge blue eyes stared back into his. They were so deep Connor felt himself drowning in them. Her hair, a golden brown color, was in fair contrast to her milky white skin. Beautiful wasn't the word to describe what he was seeing right now. There wasn't a word invented yet that could do this girl justice. He felt a slight churning in his stomach, a nervous reaction, and he felt sick, but in a good…no, a wonderful way.

All this and only a handful of seconds had just passed. Only to Connor, it felt like forever…

Dawn stood there, the shield between her sister and this strange new boy. Boy? No boy she knew could ever leap like that. Well, not anyone normal. But she felt a strange spark when she caught his dark brown eyes. It was something unlike she ever felt before…

"Dawn, look out!", Buffy's voice broke their moment when she landed a hard side-kick out of nowhere into the boy, knocking him down. Buffy seized the moment as she pounced right onto him.

"Buffy, no!", Dawn tried to call, but it was futile. When Buffy wanted to fight, there was just no stopping her.

"Buffy! No! Connor! Stop it, damn it!", Angel frantically shouted. The vampire jumped into the fray, attempting to pull Buffy off of his son, but was met with a crushing blow from Connor, intended for Buffy. It was enough to send Angel flying back on his head.

Spike tried his hand as he tried to grab the boy. "Alright, ya little ponce, off you g- -"

He got a mouthful of Buffy's elbow, missing Connor by inches, for his efforts, knocking Spike right on his ass. "Ow, Bloody hell, why does everyone keep hitting me!", he muttered as he tried to stand.

"Stop it! Stop it!", Willow shouted.

"They'll kill each other!", Fred squealed.

Connor leapt onto Buffy's prone form but Buffy was ready for him. A quick forearm to the face and she turned on top of him. But Connor wasn't ready to give up yet. A quick roll-over counter and he pinned her beneath him. The two warriors rolled about furiously, each gaining a brief advantage before being forced under again.

"Shouldn't we do something?", Molly insisted. "This is getting rather out of control!"

"Are you trippin'? I ain't gettin' _near_ no guy with a knife!", Rona said, taking a cautious step backwards. "Do I wear a sign that says 'Organs-for-free'?"

"But Buffy's our leader!", Amanda protested.

"No, Rona's right", Giles said, brushing the girls behind him with a protective sweep of his arm. "It's much too dangerous for you girls to get involved. Buffy is more than capable of handling this situation herself."

"Yeah, but the hotel probably isn't that capable of sustaining a fight between two super-beings", Gunn said as he tried to find a spot to pick and intervene.

Buffy and Connor traded vicious blows to each other as they continued their ground struggle.

"Somebody, stop him!", Xander yelled.

"Why don't you do something then?", Anya snapped, as she watched the combat transfixed, until the knife embedded itself a few inches from her feet. She let out a frightened '_EEP_!' before hopping behind Xander in fright.

"Oh, for the love of Vince McMahon!..", Lorne sighed as he tried to separate the two, rather unsuccessfully.

Suddenly, three pairs of strong hands pried the two combatants apart. Buffy felt herself wrenched away, looking up at Angel and Spike.

"Easy, now, luv", Spike gritted out as Buffy wildly thrashed in his grip. "Take a breather."

"Get…off…me!", she squirmed in their iron grasps.

"Buffy, please, you have to calm down- -", Angel tried.

"Calm down! That little …he tried to - -"

"I'll explain everything", Angel said, calm but his voice hard. "But you have to stop fighting."

After a beat, Buffy relaxed her muscles. "You'd better."

Faith, however, wasn't having that easy a time trying to hold down Connor.

"Okay, Junior, cut it out!", she said as she tried to hold him back.

"Did you see what she almost did to her?", he hissed, his eyes wide with anger.

"I know. But you didn't make things easier, either. Now stop!", Faith insisted.

"NO!", Connor boomed as he brushed past her when he was met by Spike dead center en route to Buffy.

"Don't even _think_ about it, Spunky", he said, his eyes dark, fists balled into punching formation.

"Get out of my way", Connor said quietly in a deadly manner.

"I'm _in_ your way. Deal with it", Spike replied coolly. He had no intention of moving. And he was more than ready for a fight.

"Connor", Angel called, just as Connor looked ready to spring into action again. "Just calm down."

"No", he said, his eyes still fixated on Spike, who returned the glare.

"Connor", Darla's voice rang out over them. At that, Conner turned to find his mother approaching him. She stopped just in front of him. "Baby, relax. There's no need for this."

"She tried to kill you", Connor defensively pointed out, his eyes softening as they met his mother's eyes.

"I know", she nodded. "But it was a mistake. And so's what you did. Violence only begets violence, son." She paused a beat. "Besides, that's no way to treat a lady."

"But- -"

"No, Connor", Darla shook her head, her voice calm but leaving no room for argument. "I know your heart was in the right place. But what you did was wrong. We don't fight humans. Not good ones, anyway. Or haven't you learned from what happened in the factory with 'Cordelia'?"

Connor wanted to argue more, but seeing the look in his mother's eyes and all the anger dissipated out of him. Reluctantly nodding, he gave in. Darla smiled as she reached up and gently stroked his cheek. Despite his anger, Connor felt himself smile at his mother's touch. She was the only one who could calm him, ease him with a mere gesture.

"Can somebody please explain to me what the _hell _is going on here?", a frustrated Buffy demanded.

"Um, actually, that's what I'd like to know", Xander said. "For example, why is Angel protecting, correct me if I'm wrong, but the evil blood-sucking fiend who tried to kill each of us, including Joyce?"

Angel grimaced. He should have anticipated that Buffy wouldn't react well to Darla's presence. After their short, but violent history, how could heexpect Buffy to react in any other way?He tried to sum up the overly complicated explanation of Darla's arrival in just a few words."Things are...different now."

While this was all being said, Wesley took a few steps inching towards Darla, putting himself in front of her as far as he could, as if to shield her. Whether or not that was a conscious or unconscious move was uncertain.

Buffy scowled, not taking her eyes off of Darla. "Unless she's got herself a bullet-proof heart, there isn't going to be a lick of difference when I take a stake and ram it right through her --"

"Darla is human", Wesley said, his tone clipped, his eyes hard as he stared back at Buffy.

Buffy's jaw dropped, her eyes wide in disbelief.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Right before the bombardment of questions.

"Wait...what?", Willow blinked, stunned. "Darla? Darla's human? HUMAN?"

"That's impossible", Giles said, inhaling a deep breath.

"You can't be _serious_!", Xander exclaimed.

"No way!", Dawn shook her head in disbelief. "She can't be human. She's a vampire!"

"Who's a vampire?", Vi, one of the Potentials, looked around in fear.

"I think...she is", Molly pointed over to Darla. "Or...was?"

"Spike?", Willow turned to the blonde-dyed vampire. "Is it true?"

Spike took a few steps towards Darla, locking eyes with his Great Grandsire. Angel and Wesley, however, quickly moved protectively in front of her.

"If you so much as _touch _her--", Angel warned, his fists balled tightly.

"Oh, knock it off, ya soddin' wanker!", Spike spat. "I'm not going to hurt the chit."

"You'll be dead before it crosses your mind", Connor warned as hecame in from the side, the coldness in his voice surpassed only by his frosty eyes.

"And quite painfully, might I add", Wesley added, his voice taught with warning.

"Oh, swell", Spike rolled his eyes, already irritated. "Now _all_ of 'Team Pouf' is gangin' up on me?"

"Stand aside", Darla softly requested. All eyes turned to her in surprise.

"Darla--", Angel began to object.

"Trust me", Darla simply said.

"I _do_ trust you", Angel said, before turning his dark gaze back to his GrandChilde. "It's _him _I don't trust."

"Oh, for heaven's sake", Spike growled, brushing past Angel and Wesley. He stood face-to-face with the smaller woman, locking eyes once more.

He regarded her appearance. Stared at her up-and-down. His nostrils flared with scent, analyzing her from every angle.

"Are you done now?", Wesley said, a hint of annoyance betraying his otherwise cool voice.

Spike looked at Darla again and smirked. "Human, huh? Always with the one-upmanship, now, weren't you, luv?"

"This from the guy who went halfway around the world to get a soul?", Darla smirked back. "Someone's got daddy issues."

At the mention of the word 'soul', Angel's eyebrows raised a tad. He thought he was mishearing their quiet conversation. But, given his supernatural hearing abilities, that was probably not accurate.

"I don't have--", Spike started, flustered. "You...bugger this, that wanker isn't my father! Damn that sharp tongue of yours." He really hated that she could get under his skin like that. Then, something dawned on him. "Wait a tick! How'd you know I've got a ---"

"Calm down, Spike", Darla chuckled. "You always get so grumpy when someone else ribs you even a little."

If Spike had any doubts about whether or not this was really Darla, all of that dissipated. Only the real Darla would be able to irk him like this.

"Thanks for the analysis, Dr. Freakin' Freud", Spike muttered, scowling.

"Anytime", Darla smiled back, almost annoyingly.

Spike forced down a smile that threatened to pull at his lips. He always enjoyed sparring with her verbally. Of course, rued was the day that William the Bloody would ever admit to anything. Led alone to one of his 're-birth' family.

He turned before turning back to Buffy. "It's true, Ducks. She's human. I can hear that heartbeat singin' in my ears."

"Wait a second--we're talking about _Darla_, right?", Xander said, skeptically. "THE Darla? Legendary vampire, murdered and tortured people longer than the good ol- U-S-of-A was even around?"

Darla felt a stab of pain and guilt at those words. She hated to be reminded of all the horrible crimes she committed during her vampire days...so much pain, destruction and death that she wrought. So much blood on her hands...

"Darla was brought back during an...encounter with 'Cordelia'", Wesley cautiously explained.

"Wait a second...Cordy's behind this whole human-Darla thing?", Xander blurted, stunned. "How? When? Why?"

"Not Cordy...whatever's taken control of her", Angel clarified. "We think whatever's controlling her was responsible for all of this."

"And what makes you think that this isn't part of that thing's plan?", Buffy snapped, still very skeptical. "Hasn't it occurred to you that this could be a trick to get you to lower your guard so she can--"

"It's no trick", Darla's voice rang out. All eyes turned to the blond-haired ex-vampire, who started to take a few steps towards Buffy.

Connor moved with her, but she turned to her son and shook her head. She did not want him protecting her this time.

"I've been sent back to prevent something terrible from happening", Darla said as she came face-to-face with her former nemesis.

"And why should I believe that? How do I know you're not helping this thing?" Buffy said, her eyes narrowed. She'd read up on Darla's exploits after Angel staked her to dust. And if there was one thing she learned from the books and her own experiences, it was that Darla was not a creature to be trusted. "The Darla I knew would have thrown a picnic at the prospect of a good apocalypse."

"The Darla you knew is gone, Buffy", Darla said in her feathery-light, yet raspy voice. Her eyes reflected a sort of sad honesty. "I know that I have no right to ask you to trust me, especially after what I...what she did--" The 'she' Darla was referring to was her vicious demon.

"You fed off my mother", Buffy practically snarled, pronouncing every word slowly and forcefully, her anger rising to the surface. "My _mother_!"

"And I can't take that back", Darla shook her head, gazing back at the Slayer with remorseful eyes. "I wish I could, but I can't. You have every reason to hate me, every right not to trust me...but all I know, is that if we're going to beat this thing, if we're going to save all those lives hanging in the balance now, then we're going to have to put aside our differences."

Buffy opened her mouth to object, when Darla's next words stopped her: " And if nothing else...do it for Cordelia. She's counting on us."

Buffy closed her eyes tight. Cordelia's face ran through her mind, screaming for help many times, replays from the seemingly endless times the girl had gotten herself into peril. Her friend was counting on her. And while Cordy and she were never exactly the best of friends, she had always come through when it counted. And if aligning herself with one of her oldest enemies meant Cordelia's freedom, then Buffy had only one choice to make.

"For Cordy", Buffy sighed, defeated. "Fine…But if you I trust you for a second, you're wrong. I'll be watching you. Every minute. Every second. Try anything funny, and we'll see just how many times you can stake a 'human' before they die."

Darla nodded in agreement, a tense silence passing between the women.

"And on _that_ fun note, let's talk sleeping arrangements, rates, pillows, anyone?", Xander quipped, but forced down his smile as he saw the tense faces rapidly filling the room.

Spike's eyes narrowed as he observed Connor. Something about this kid was bugging him, but he couldn't place his finger on it.He turned his suddenly observant eyes back at Angel, still beside Buffy before turning back to Connor, still facing Darla. Suddenly, the connections started to form quickly in the vampire's mind. Hestudiedall the boy's features. The eyes. The hair. The cheekbones. Skin texture. Height…

And the scent the boy was giving off had a stunning familiarity to it…

And that's when it dawned on him.

"Oh, my God!", he exclaimed. This drew everyone's attention towards him.

"What now?", Angel groaned, still put off by Spike's presence.

Spike let out a small chuckle. "Well, knock me over with a Wiccan broomstick! Always did have a knack for the impossible, Peaches, but _this_…well, you pretty much topped yourself."

Darla's eyes widened in concern as she realized that Spike was about to let the proverbial cat out of the bag. "Spike…", she warned, a slightly pleading note in her voice.

"What are you talking about?", Buffy asked, confused about what Spike was going on about.

"Oh, come on, luv, take a look at the little whelp", Spike motioned to Connor. "Look hard at him. Angel's eyes. Darla's cheekbones. A sneer very reminiscent of a certain vampire with a certain aero-dynamic hairstyle…"

Angel held his breath...well, figuratively speaking. He had a sinking feeling that was about to happen wasn't going to be pleasant at all.

Buffy's confusion was plain on her face…and then it dawned on her.

"Oh, my God", she whispered. She took a step closer to the boy, who immediately got into defense stance. Almost identical to Angel's own posture.

"You're Angel's son." She paused, swallowing before she spoke again. "You're Connor."

* * *

Meanwhile...

* * *

Sunset - Clarity, Iowa

* * *

"_Well, I've been afraid of changing coz I built my life around you,_

_But time makes you bolder, children get older, _

_I'm getting older too, Well I'm getting older too._

_So, take this love and take it down,_

_Year and if you climb a mountain and you turn around._

_And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills,_

_Well the landslide brought me down._

_And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills,_

_Well maybe, well maybe, well maybe the landslide will bring you down_."

Lindsay McDonald gave a faint grin as the applause came following his song. He never was much for showboating. He never even gave a 'thank you' to the crowd after receiving such adulated applause. He simply nodded and grinned his acknowledgement. Something engrained in him from his parents. They might have been piss-poor and struggling, but at least they were honest.

With a heavy sigh, the handsome ex-lawyer plopped down into a barstool, unloading his guitar from his shoulders. A few folks passed by, slapping him on the back, a few 'You go gettem, boy's and 'Them some pipes ya got, kid's mixed up in the hail of compliments that bombarded him.

The young red-headed bartender smiled flirtatiously at him. "What'll it be, Mr. Undiscovered Country Music Star?"

Lindsey returned it with an equally flirty gaze. "Come on, Claire. You know what I like, baby", he drawled, his eyes playfully suggestive.

The young woman giggled. "Well, I'll see what I can do 'bout that after I getcha a cold one."

Lindsey loved to tease the girl. He knew that ever since arriving back in Clarity, the place of his dirt-poor roots, that the girl had a crush on him from almost the first time he entered the bar. 'Irving's Bar', the name above the establishment. A place he found himself frequenting after his daily 9-to-5 down at the local candy store his brother owned. One of three siblings he had left.

It was hard at first, readjusting to the drain, muck and downright dissatisfaction with Midwest life after coming from the wealth, power, caviar-munching and champagne-sipping lifestyle of L.A. that his former employers, Wolfram and Hart, had provided for him. At first, Lindsey had serious second thoughts about the trade-off. He had even considered going back to Wolfram and Hart, asking them to take him back into their fold. However, he knew, in the end, that it simply would not happen.

First, after the way he left the firm, he knew that if he ever set foot again inside that tower of glass and steel, he would probably have never been heard from again. He had seen first-hand how Wolfram and Hart deals with unsatisfactory employees. He could practically feel Lee's blood on the side of his face, freshly splattered from a gunshot wound to the head, courtesy of Wolfram and Hart's 'termination' of his contract.

Second, he knew, perhaps always knew, that even if Wolfram and Hart accepted him back, even if they did give him back the fancy office, the extravagant benefits, the mountainous raise, and the silk-and-roses lifestyle back to him, it could only end badly. How far could he really trust a firm who implanted him with a possessed, murdering hand? Without his permission? If Wolfram & Hart could do that, well, nothing was short of their reach, now was it?

And third, there was something nagging him at the pit of his stomach, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but was there nonetheless. Like there was a certain need to do this. Almost a pre-requisite for his conscience, his soul to be at peace. He was tempted to think 'atonement', but he refused to. He'd be sounding too much like Angel. At that thought, he laughed. Whoever thought that Lindsey McDonald, cunning, intelligent, and handsome heir-apparent from Wolfram and Hart would have been likened to Angel? Certainly not Lindsey.

But still, there was the need for him to put to rest his own sins of the past. With the stroke of a pen, with the argument of a legal charge, with a simple word through a telephone, he sentenced innocent people to die. He let murderers walk free into the night, ready to kill again. Men, women, even children had befallen a cruel fate, because of his actions.

He had to go through with this. He owed too much to those victims, to the memory of his father, to let his own crimes go unpunished. Well, maybe atonement was more or less in the right ballpark.

_Huh, what a picture_, he thought, _Now I'm just a few steps away from wearing all black and ridiculous tabs on strong-holding hair gel_.

Aside, from it, he was getting used to life back in Clarity by now. Sure, the pay at his job wasn't much, and the hours were hell, but the people…he'd be damned if he ever had anything bad to say about the people here. Some of the most honest, well-meaning, friendly, and just more fun-loving than most other folk. Just better people. They reminded him what it meant to be human again. Really human. It wasn't just a pulse and a brain-wave. It was about feelings. People were about feelings. Wolfram & Hart almost drained him of that. But not enough to totally strip away what was purest in his heart.

What made him human.

"Here ya go, sugar", the girl smiled at him. "Just how ya like it."

"You are a heavensend, Claire", Lindsey sighed. He grasped the bottle with one hand and toasted her. "To your health."

"So", she leaned in close, the scent of her sweet perfume faintly wafting in his nostrils. "You never did tell me exactly what a big city guy like you's doing back in a town like this, now did ya?"

"Just living, sweetheart", he shrugged. "That's something we all take for granted. Living. Choices. Just doing what we do. Took me a while to realize that. And I almost lost myself before I could find myself again."

"Sounds like you just went through hell and back over in L.A.", Claire noted.

Lindsey snorted. "Trust me, Claire, you don't know the half of it."

He reached into his pocket of his long-sleeve jacket, and placed a few dollar bills on the counter. "Always know how to bring a guy up, sweetie. The rest of the money's yours."

Claire's eyes lit up as she saw that the rest of the leftover change was in about 40 dollars worth of tip. "Ooh, Lindsey!", she squealed. "Thank you!"

"Think nothin' of it, sugar", Lindsey smiled as he got up from his barstool.

"You know", she drawled in a seductive voice. "One of these nights, you'll just have to stick around after you sing…maybe we can do a duet."

"You sing?", Lindsey's eyebrows raised.

"Not quite", she smirked. "But I bet you could help me hit those…high notes."

Linsdey smiled back, chuckling. "I'll keep that in mind…g'night, Claire."

He strode out of the bar, his guitar in hand. He sighed, knowing of the prospect of work still awaiting him in the morning. _Maybe a late-night session wasn't such a good idea after all_, he thought. _Ah, well_…

He had just placed the keys to his pick-up truck in door, when a voice stopped him cold.

"Lindsey McDonald, right?"

His hand froze on the keys. Instantly, he stiffened. His instincts told him to be on guard.

"Depends." He said that with a smooth, calm voice, masking his alertness well.

"On what?"

In an instant, Lindsey's left hand shot out. An audible click was followed by the sudden appearance of a sawed-off, well-concealed spring-propelled shotgun…which he had pointed right at his would-be attacker in the second he whirled around.

His eyes flashed warning. "On who wants to know."

His eyes rested on a smaller man, wearing a Porkpie hat and a slightly scuffed leather jacket. The yellow Hawaiian shirt, plastered with light blue palm trees in the design, was tucked sloppily into the man's khaki pants. In Lindsey's eyes, this guy was the poster boy for what a man should not dress like.

"Whoa, tough guy!", he raised his hands. "Watch where you point that thing, you could put an eye out."

"You don't tell me who you are and what you want in exactly 3 seconds, I'm going to put out a lot more than just your eye", Lindsey said, his voice still smooth, but his glare smoldering. "You from Wolfram & Hart?"

The man, balding, from what Lindsey could tell, spread a huge smirk across his face. "Nope. Wolfram & Hart isn't looking to hiring anybody nowadays. You know, on the count of most of them being dead and all."

Lindsey's eyebrows raised. "Say that again?" Surely he wasn't hearing what he _thought _he was hearing...right?

The man rolled his eyes. "Dead. Wolfram & Hart? Your former bosses? Big evil law firm in L.A.? They're all gone. Finito. Ancient history. Bit the big one?"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time", Lindsey snapped, his shotgun still pointed straight at the man. "I just don't believe that's possible. This is Wolfram & Hart we're talking about, not K-mart. They don't go out of business that easily."

"Boy, the news really does trickle down slow in these parts, don't it?", the man shook his head. From what Lindsey could tell, there was a strong Northeastern accent laced in his voice. Like he should be driving a cab down 7th Avenue in downtown Manhattan. "Haven't you heard the news, Lawyer Boy? L.A? Rain of Fire? Sun blocking out? Major apocalyptic broo-haha? This has been going on for the last few weeks!"

"Yeah, I've heard about all that", Lindsey said, his face reflecting his surprise. "I just figured..."

"That it was business as usual at the Tower of Power? Hardly, Blue Eyes", the man said. "In fact, the big W & H was caught with their pants down, just like everyone else. In some cases, literally, when the big, ugly Beastie stormed the building and turned it into the aftermath of a Neeman Marcus discount sale day."

Lindsey blinked, stunned almost to the point of loss of words. "Are you telling me that me that everyone at Wolfram & Hart is dead?"

"Ding-ding-ding! Tell 'im what he's won, Johnny!", the man sarcastically said. "Yep. All gone. Well, at least at the L.A. office. Though I don't think it'll be too long till the ones in Cairo, London, New York and Paris go down too. It's the end, kiddo. The Final Showdown at the O.K. Corral."

"Who are you?", Lindsey said, his voice rising slightly. No doubt that this mysterious stranger's words had rattled him a little.

"Well, cowboy, how 'bout you put away that peashooter and you find out?", the man said, his eyes fixed on the gun in the ex-lawyer's hands.

"Everything all right, Lindsey?", a gruff voice asked from the side.

Lindsey's eyes darted to the dimly lit entrance of the bar. There stood two men in the doorway, each dressed in rugged, country style clothing. The one who spoke had long brown hair, a white cowboy hat covering the top of his head and just a hint of his eyes, narrowed in suspicion at the stranger opposite Lindsey McDonald. The other one had short blonde hair, his baseball cap rimmed down in front. His hands were rested tightly around the barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun.

Lindsey regarded the stranger for a moment, and then turned back to the two men. " Don't worry, Sam. It's nothin'. You can tell Leo to put away the gun."

The man in the cowboy hat nodded. "You need anything, you just give us a holler, ya hear?"

Lindsey nodded. "Thanks, Sam." The two men slowly withdrew back into the bar.

After a minute, the stranger smirked. "Nice folks. Protective types, aren't they?"

"Just around people who don't belong here...like you", Lindsey said, lowering his own gun. "Now I'm asking you one more time before I shout that holler--who are you?"

"Geez enough with the threats already! Haven't had so many guns pointed at me since the time I walked in downtown Boston wearing a Yankees jersey", the man smirked. "Name's Whistler."

"Whistler, huh?", Lindsey scoffed, unimpressed. "What'd you do to your parents that made them call you that?"

"Hey, hey, hey! Let's not get touchy, here", Whistler said, defensively. "A little more respect for a messenger from the Powers that Be, please."

"You're a messenger from the Powers?", Lindsey asked, disbelievingly. "Nice try, buddy, but I think that Porkpie hat's on just a little too tight."

"Think back to your W & H days, Slick", Whistler said. "Think back to everything you've read in the file on Angel."

"How do you know Angel?", Lindsey's eyebrows narrowed in intrigue and suspicion.

"Who do you think trained the great Champion how to act all 'champion-like'? Here's a hint: it wasn't Mick from the 'Rocky' movies", Whistler bragged.

Lindsey's eyes widened as he suddenly realized who it was standing in front of him. "Whistler...half-demon messenger from the Powers That Be...you found Angel in the alleyway in Manhattan, 1996...showed him the way to fighting for the forces of good." He paused. "Well, the files did mention you were a tacky dresser."

"You know", Whistler tersely said. "In New York, a lot of guys would've been shot for all those pot shots you've been taking."

"Yeah", Lindsey shrugged, non-chalantly. "But we're not in New York, and you're not the one with the gun, are you?"

"Touché", the half-demon smirked. He had to admit, the kid had spunk. And fire. Those were qualities that would serve him well, if he was up to the challenge he was about to lay at his feet.

"Now", Lindsey continued. "You've already answered one part of my question, now all that's left is the second: What do you want?"

"Simple things, really", Whistler quipped. "Ice cold beer, steaming hot dog with mustard, more sleep...the Knicks to actually be watchable again...ever since they lost Ewing, man, the whole team chemistry's just been shot down the--"

"I meant with me", Lindsey snapped, nearing the end of his patience. It'd been a long day, and he really wanted to get some shut-eye before his morning shift, not trade quips with some vagabond who looked like he'd been vomited on by the World's Tackiest Closet.

"Oh...right", Whistler shook his head again. "Well, that all depends on what you want, doesn't it , Lindsey?"

The young man's patience wasdangerously wearing thin. "I'm not in the mood for any mind games, pal. So just _spit it out_."

Whistler grinned, amused. "Think about it. Here you are, Lindsey Mc-freakin-Donald, shot up like a rocket through law school, handpicked by Wolfram & Hart into their special little world, going all the way to Junior Partner, and eventually, being selected President of Special Projects Division...one disgruntled workday later, you're slumming it back in your hometown, pushing candy for a nine-to-five at your brother Earl's store, hitting on the local bar maid while doing your best Billy Ray Cyrus impersonation. And you've somehow managed to fool yourself into thinking that this is what you have to offer the world for the rest of your life? That you're happy doing this?"

"I am happy", Lindsey said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You're as miserable in this town for the last two years as I've been for the last 5 minutes", Whistler snorted. "Do you honestly think that by hiding away in the Dust Bowl that you'll be able to atone for what you did during your time as Mr. Hot-Shot-Evil-Lawyer? That a couple of hits from the Billboard charts and a few friendly smiles would undo the deaths your hands were tainted with?"

"I never killed--"

"No, but you might as well have", Whistler countered. "That's what your conscience keeps whispering to you on all those late nights you try to rest your head to bed, isn't it? That you could've done something else? Maybe you could have stopped a few more innocent deaths other than those psychic kids in the orphanage?"

Lindsey didn't respond. But his eyes spoke the truth. Whistler was right on target. What could he really say? His conscience did eat away at him nightly. He was frustrated. And, despite everything he'd done, he felt like there was something he didn't finish that night he sped away from L.A. in his pickup truck for the last time.

"Life doesn't stop going just 'cause you got yourself a new hand, boy-o", Whistler continued. "It keeps going. Never stopping, never ceasing, until that one big spin where everything's a blur and then--poof! Off the axis. And newsflash, Cochran, Jr., that big push--it's about to happen soon."

It dawned on Lindsey. "So you're telling me--an apocalypse is coming...?"

"Not just a apocalypse, kiddo--THE apocalypse", Whistler said, his face serious now. "This is the granddaddy of them all. The Big One. The Mother Load. The Crap Shoot for All the Marbles."

He paused ominously. "The Final Battle is going down. Soon."

"So, basically", Lindsey said, "I'm going to die."

"Well, you _are _human", Whistler shrugged. "It's bound to happen sooner or later."

Lindsey took this all in, nodding before he took a deep breath. "Well, nice of you to drop by and tell me that...I'm going home now." He turned back to his car.

"Wait a second! Slow down!", Whistler exclaimed. "That's _it_? I tell you the world's about to go down the tubes and you're just heading back to your tiny little apartment to wait for _judgment day?_"

"No", Lindsey shook his head. "I'm going back to my tiny little apartment to wait for eight o'clock in the morning, when I can get up, shower and somehow make it to work on time. There's a difference."

"_You _can be a difference, McDonald", Whistler said. "You don't realize it yet, but you still have something left in the tank. You can still be someone who _counts_."

"Is that right?", Lindsey sneered. "How? I'm barely making a living for myself, I don't have the connections or the power I used to have a Wolfram & Hart, and I'm just a mortal. I'm not a champion like Angel, and I never will be. I'm just me. Lindsey McDonald. And I'm fine with that."

"I don't believe that", Whistler said, his eyes reflecting an earnest honesty.

"Believe what you want--I don't give a damn", Lindsey said as he opened the door to his pickup. He had one foot in the car when Whistler's next words froze him in place.

"Then what do you give a damn about--Darla?"

At her name, Lindsey's head jerked around. His gaze went from semi-calm to furious within an instant. A dull pain surged through his heart before rage overtook him. He stalked over to Whistler, grabbing the smaller man's coat roughly and shaking him hard.

"Don't _ever _talk about her in front of me again! Understand?", his eyes burned with anger, his voice practically a growl.

"Never let go of her, could you? Understandable...I mean, she is the woman you love", Whistler shrugged calmly, in spite of his precarious situation.

"You don't know anything!", Lindsey spat as he threw Whistler roughly away from him.

"I know that you still keep a picture of her you snapped yourself in a frame under your guitar case", Whistler said, adjusting his jacket. "For good luck before you play...I know you spent part of your time on the internet, surfing everywhere for rumors on her whereabouts during your first few months back in this dumpy town...I know you had to cry yourself to sleep when you found out that she staked herself in an alleyway last year...to give birth to a kid. A kid you wish were yours and hers...and how you nearly drank yourself to death in the weeks that followed, mourning for her."

Lindsey felt the sting of tears start up in the back of his eyes, blinking them back hard. Those were very personal memories dredged up to the surface. Times he wanted to let go of. Times he didn't want to remember ever again. He knew that Darla never returned his love for her, but that couldn't stop him from loving her. He knew not of any man that could do that. And now, just as he'd finally come to terms with the death of the woman he loved, this man had now resurrected those memories in one cruel joke...

"And I know that she's alive. Again."

Lindsey's eyes widened. He didn't know whether or not to laugh or cry or be angry...the words sent a jolt running though his heart, a shiver up his spine. Darla...alive? It was impossible...wasn't it?

"You're lying", he said in a fierce, yet quiet tone.

"After all I've told you, knowing who I am, you still don't believe me?", Whistler asked .

Lindsey didn't know...and he didn't care.

"Where is she?", Lindsey asked, quietly, but with a soft trace of hope in his voice. His emotions were running so fast that he was starting to tremble.

The half demon shrugged. "In distress. As most beautiful damsels find themselves in the stories."

"WHERE IS SHE, DAMN IT??", the young man's voice roared, filled with a desperation and longing so powerful it nearly made him hoarse.

"Alright, alright, geez", Whistler sighed. "L.A. Dealing with the apocalypse that you so eagerly seem to be running away from."

Lindsey's eyes fixed back to his car. "I'm going to find her", he started to walk back to his car.

"And then what?", Whistler scoffed. "Drag her away from the evil ? Spirit her away into the sunset? Live happily ever after? It doesn't work like that, McDonald."

"I don't really give a damn about how it works!", he snapped angrily. "If Darla's alive, and she's in trouble down there--"

"Then she'll tear you apart sooner than let you take her away from a fight she wants to win", Whistler said. "Look, Slick, a lot's gone down in the last year or so you've been in this little exile. It's not just Darla's life that's at stake here--it's the lives of every living thing in existence. And, let's face it, you've been out of the loop for a while. This is the real deal happening here."

"Then help me", Lindsey gritted his teeth, his anxiousness at its limit. "You're supposed to be one of the white hats, right? Tell me what I need to do. I want to..."

He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "I need to help her...I want to help everyone...but especially her."

Whistler chuckled, shaking his head. "Look at you...love-struck and all...well, love's as noble an intention as any...I can help you, Lindsey. Under three conditions: you do what I tell you, when I tell you and you don't ask questions. Got it?"

Lindsey hastily nodded. "Fine. Anything, now come on!"

"Geez, Mr. Huffy! Cool your pits, huh?", Whistler said. "Alright, we need to get by your place. Get a few 'special' things you've tucked away."

"Why?" Lindsey asked, confused.

The half-demon glared at him, annoyed. "What did we just agree on?"

"Whatever", muttered Lindsey under his breath. "Then what?"

"Then", Whistler said as he hopped into the car. "We find the interstate highway and make a bee-line towards the Coast. After we pick up an extra passenger on the way."

"Wait a minute--what extra passenger?", the young ex-lawyer exclaimed.

"Another player in the game", Whistler said simply. "Hope this guy won't be asking as many questions as you, though. Otherwise, it's gonna be a looong ride."

Lindsey sighed as he hit the ignition. He knew this was crazy, stupid and completely irrational on his part. He was about to return to a place he swore never to return to, on the advice of a guy who looked like he just stepped off the unemployment line, on a mission to save the world that would likely kill him. All to chase the vision of a woman whom he never thought he could have, anyway.

But it was Darla...and any way he could finally win her heart, he would take...

...no matter how insane...

"Oh, man", Lindsey shook his head, tiredly, as the truck started to roll down the dirt path road. "Earl's gonna kill me when I get back."

Lindsey had a feeling this was going to be a long ride...

"Hey, no worries, McDonald", Whistler drawled. "You're doing a great service to humankind...Besides, I have connections: I'll have the Powers write you a sick note or something while you're gone."

Lindsey sighed._ A veery, loong ride_...

* * *

TBC 


	9. Part 7 Preparations and Revelations

Chapter 7

* * *

Preparations and Revelations

* * *

'Cordelia' slowly began to stir and after a few tense moments, she arose from the floor. 

She grabbed at her pounding forehead. Vaguely, she reconstructed the bits and pieces of what she remembered to transpire. Darla. The spell. The foiled attempt to kill the newly resurrected woman...and ending up spatula-ed against the wall, courtesy of a powerful counterspell.

"Ugh...man, I really hate those guys", she muttered angrily.

_'Trouble?'_, a voice casually asked, before the swooshing of air sounded behind her. 'Cordelia' whirled around, drawing her meat-cleaver in a heartbeat. However, upon seeing who it was, she dropped it.

Standing there, arms folded, smiling sweetly, was what appeared in form to be Harmony Kendall. Cordelia Chase's old high school friend...and a vampire. But vampires were dead. And Harmony couldn't possibly have known about any of this. So that meant...

"M-Master?", 'Cordelia' uttered softly, her voice trembling.

"In the flesh", 'Harmony' replied. "Well, so to speak."

"Um...heh, what an honor that you come!", 'Cordelia' shamelessly began to lavish praise on her. "I-I wasn't expecting you so soon, uh...how are the Bringers? Still mute?"

"You seem a little jumpier than usual...is something wrong?", the figure appearing as Harmony asked, her question poignant.

"No! Nothing's wrong! Never better!", 'Cordelia' backpedalled. "I-i-in fact, the vessel is developing at a faster rate than we expected--"

"And yet, MY vessel still hasn't arrived...when it should have arrived some time ago", 'Harmony' said, still calm. "And I understand that you've lost the sacrifice AND the Destroyer, whom I had great plans for."

Her astonishment left 'Cordelia' nearly speechless. "How did you--"

"All-seeing and all-knowing, remember? Did you think me blind to what was happening with my most important weapon ever? I AM the First Evil, you know."

"And what a GREAT First Evil you are, might I add", 'Cordelia' laughed nervously. "By the way, have you lost weight? You look so good--"

"Enough boot-licking, please!", the First/Harmony said. "You have a very simple assignment. Find a virgin sacrifice, deliver my vessel, wham-bam-thank-you-m'aam, you're done. Simple. Now, because of your incompetance, not only is Angel, the Powers' Champion, and his gang up to snuff on your actions, but even worse, now they've alerted, and reunited with my worst enemy, Buffy Summers, the Slayer, and her accursed friends to derail MY plans!"

"The _Slayer_?", 'Cordelia' gasped. "She's _here_? In **_L.A_**??"

"As we speak", the First/Harmony snapped. "This is EXACTLY what I feared would happen most...that the two greatest warriors of good would convene here, NOW, to prevent me from gaining the ultimate weapon, which would enable me to bring the Powers That Be AND the entire universe to its knees, giving me dominion over ALL life...and now they're BOTH here, because YOU saw fit to make flesh a ghost image of the boy's mother!"

"I-i-it seemed like a good idea at the time", 'Cordelia' stammered. "He showed enough emotion for Darla that I thought that it'd be easier to control him...and well, the boy's so irrational--"

"And did I give you permission for an act like that?" the First glowered at her. "I don't think so...You've been more trouble than you've been worth lately. And yet, I must count on you because inside of you is a power unlike any other" At that, it bent down to take a closer look at 'Cordelia's' pregnant belly.

"...a power that would grant me my fondest wish, and the universe's greatest nightmare." After a beaming, yet chilling smile, the First faced 'Cordelia' at eye level. "You are not to use your powers for anything other than self-defense or for the sacrificial ritual until the vessel is delivered. ANY more foolishness like that Darla stunt, and I will be greatly..._greatly_...displeased."

'Cordelia' swallowed hard, fear dancing in her eyes. An angry First Evil was definitely not something she wanted to be placed in the crosshairs of. "Yes...of course, master...anything you ask. I won't fail you again."

The First/Harmony smiled sweetly. "Oh, my dear." Then her eyes flashed bright red.

'Cordelia' gasped as a tingling, burning sensation passed through her body, making her gasp and cough, shaking uncontrollably. With every precious breath becoming more and more impossible, she looked up at the First/Harmony, desperation and fear written all over her face.

"See that you don't", the First/Harmony smiled evilly. "Or the pain you feel right now won't even be an inkling...of what I have planned for you if you fail me again...I've waited thousands upon thousands of years for this very moment, and I will not be defeated now, NOT when the universe is within my reach...find a sacrifice. Quickly. Do what you must, and bring my vessel forth at ALL costs. Fail me...and there will be no way out...for _you_."

The pain suddenly disappeared and 'Cordelia' fell to her knees, on the floor, panting and wheezing. When she looked up, the First had vanished. As if it was never there, to begin with.

She winced. "I really...hate...that thing", she snarled to herself.

But she was already terrified. The most powerful evil in existence, a force with more power than even she possessed, had just given her an ultimatum: Deliver the baby or forfeit her life. And time was running out. She had to act quickly. She had become very used to walking the mortal realm...so she had to find another virgin.

Her entire well-being was depending on it. And if there was one thing she was good at, it was knowing how to survive. To save her own skin.

To stay alive.

* * *

Back at the Hyperion...

* * *

After a relatively long silence, Xander blurted out:

"Whoa,whoa, whoa, wait a second--**son**? _What _son?"

Fred sighed, knowing this would be a long explanation. "Well, things have been a little wacky here over the last two years and...long story short, Connor is Angel's son."

"You mean he adopted a child?", Anya corrected, snorting at the idea of a vampire fathering a child. That wasn't possible, and she knew that...right?

"Ah...no", Faith corrected. "That's Connor. Angel's son. As in, offspring? Biological child? Fruit of his loins?"

"Angel has a son?", a confused Dawn asked Buffy.

Buffy said nothing, only continued to stare at the tall boy in front of her. She felt her heart constrict painfully as she observed him. He was exactly what she pictured Angel's son to be like. More or less, anyway. His eyes ,although a clear, piercing blue, much like Darla's, had a stare about them that was so characteristic of Angel. He was tall, like his father. And judging from the way that he fought, he was strong, just like his father.

"Wait...I-I-I don't seem to be following, are you telling me that...this...boy, is Angel's biological child?", Giles stammered, stunned.

"Yup", Willow said. "A perfect genetic match. Right down to the sneer."

"That's not possible", Giles said, clearly flustered. "Vampires can't have children. It's-it's-it's a biological impossibility!"

"Tell me about it", Fred rolled her eyes. "I mean, I was stumped, too, trying to figure it out...I guess it's one of those theories we'll never really know about, like the Big Bang, or Einstein's relativity...or how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop."

"The world may never know", Andrew sighed, wistfully.

"Yeah, but I think we all know that in this line of work, the impossible has a tendency to become very possible", Gunn shrugged.

A faint coughing could be heard from behind the wreckage, as Principal Wood threw back a sheet of metal over his head, wincing with the effort .

"Omigosh, Principal Wood!", Amanda exclaimed as she ran to the faintly staggering principal, sliding an arm under him for support. "Are you okay?"

"Um...yeah", he coughed. "As okay as one can be after surviving a four-car-pile-up."

Buffy snapped out of her haze for a moment to attend to her ally. "Robin, are you hurt?", she asked, her voice a bit distant.

"Oh, no, no", Robin smirked. "I'm good to go...as long as you point me in the right direction to go, that is."

"Who's that guy?", Connor asked, suspiciously.

"A friend", Willow answered as she went in to check on the condition of the principal.

Wesley took a moment in the distraction of Wood's emergence from the rubble to turn his attention to Darla. He walked over to where she was standing, many thoughts clouded in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Are you alright?", he asked, his tone soothing, as he placed a hand on her shoulder, as gentle as he could be.

Darla's eyes met his, a sort of relief in them as she beheld his gaze. "Yes, I'm fine...or as fine as one can be after having a stake thrown at them at about 80 miles an hour."

"You're not hurt, are you?", he asked, his eyes darkening with worry.

She smiled gently at him. "No, Wesley, I'm fine. Thank you for asking."

"How could I not?", he smirked back, but lightheartedly. "Can't have you off and dying again so soon."

She had to chuckle at that comment. Though she couldn't explain it, Darla was feeling somewhat more at ease, now that Wesley was at her side.

"Gosh", Skip chuckled sarcastically as he surveyed the scene in front of him. "Look at all this. A lover's triangle, old enemies forced on the same side, allegiances drawn in the sand...it's like a spooky episode of 'Survivor', only without the chicks who strip down to their undies for peanut butter."

"Need I remind you, Metal Face, that we can still open up a can of Infinite Agony whoop-ass on you if you keep talking out of turn?", Lorne testily retorted.

"Hey, just stating the obvious, Green Jeans", Skip shrugged. "I mean, c'mon! Do you actually expect all of these people to work together? They've got more baggage on them than American Airlines."

"You're awfully talkative for someone who can be subjected to horrible, blinding torment within a few minutes", Fred noted, suspiciously.

"Probably 'cause I just realized something", Skip smirked, a knowing gleam in his eye. "One, no matter what I could tell you, it'd be like holding the ocean back with a broom. No way it's going to make a difference, kiddies. The Big Bad you're so mad on to put a stop to...can't be stopped. It's too powerful, too all-knowing."

"Well, if it won't make a difference, how come you're not spilling?", Willow asked. "If it won't make a difference, then there's no harm in letting us in on the big surprise."

"And yet, I derive an odd sense of satisfaction from making all of you so frustrated", the metallic demon snorted. "You know, it's the simple things in life."

"I could beat the information out of you", Angel warned, eyes darkened.

"Suppose you could, but then, you'd have to consider, it took a while last time for our rumble to die down", Skip smirked arrogantly. "Sure, champ, you might get lucky twice. But, then again, people can get hurt in the crossfire. People can die. You willing to risk one of the lives of your crew? Or those little girls? Or your old friends?" He paused for dramatic effect. "If you let me out...are you willing to risk the third death of the woman who was once your whole world?"

Angel's jaw clenched, considering his options. He hated to admit it, but Skip was right. He couldn't risk a battle in the hotel. There were too many people to consider. Buffy, Darla, Connor, the AI team, the Scoobies, the gaggle of new girls, most of them barely looking 16...

"Ha...shoulda known you'd chicken out", Skip snorted. "Besides, as good as Miss. Science-Whiz over there is", he motioned to Fred. "...there's no way she'd get the spell done right, or in time. I mean, the 'Sphere of the Infinite Agonies'?...That's a whole lot of dark mojo. Can't be done by any boob with a book. Only a truly powerful master of the dark arts could wield the power and skill sufficient enough to--"

"'Sphere of the Infinite Agonies'?", Willow perked up. "What, you mean one of these?"

She raised her right hand and pointed right at Skip, her green eyes suddenly morphing to steely black orbs, her face a mask of focus.

"_Sphere of the Infinite Agonies, I summon thee_!", she called.

Skip gulped. "Uh...hey, hold on, wait a minute, now--"

A swirling of cold wind instantly followed, accompanied by tiny streaks of red lightning around the forcefield holding Skip. Just then, a bubble-like sphere appeared around the demon, encircling him. The startled demon's eyes widened, and his mouth opened as if to scream, but his cries were muted to all.

"What the--", a startled Xander managed as he stared at the scene in awe.

"Is that...?", Fred began to ask, as she stared wide-eyed at a screaming Skip.

"One Sphere of Infinite Agony, in 3 seconds or less or your money back", Willow smiled knowingly. However, the stares of awe, and some of fright, that she was receiving from both groups caused the little redhead to recede her otherwise winning smile (which would have been more winning if her eyes weren't as black as death itself). "Guess it's not quite as funny when you're bringing down unbearable torment on someone, huh?"

"Actually, it can be quite hysterical", Spike chimed in. " 'Specially in Metal Boy's case...I mean, look at the way his eyes are starting to show those funny little red veiny thingies--"

An elbow nudge from Anya cut him off. "Oww! What was that for?"

"Don't you think it'd be a little bit stupid to start acting like your vampire self in front of strange new people who hunt and kill demons on a daily basis?", Anya motioned to the Fang Gang with her head, her stare poignant.

"What, them? Please, it's just the Pouf and his band of merry men...and that little cutie over there", he said as he took a look at Fred.

Fred bashfully lowered her head, attempting to hide her blush. Gunn, however, took exception to that comment. "Who you callin' cute, Billy Idol?", he gruffly demanded.

"Take a breather, Big Guy", Spike waved him off. "I'm just sayin', is all."

Gunn scowled, squaring his shoulders. "Well, maybe you shouldn't 'just say'. Especially when her boyfriend is--"

At that slip, Fred looked up at Gunn, questioningly, with a dash of hope in her eyes.

Gunn gulped. "Uhhh...ex. Boyfriend. Yeah, ex-boyfriend, that is."

Fred's eyes lowered, disappointed. Gunn kicked himself mentally for chickening out, but the look in Fred's eyes made him doubt himself at the last second. There was still much between the once-loving couple that needed to be resolved before they could figure out where they stood.

The swirling died down as Willow lowered her hand, the sphere suddenly dissipating back into the thin air from where it came. Skip fell to his knees within the prism holding him, audibly gasping, muttering curses at Willow, wincing in pain.

Darla looked at her curiously ."How did you do that?"

Willow shrugged. "Well, I happen to be one of the most powerful witches in existence right now...I kinda absorbed a lot of dark mojo one time, totally wigged out. I guess the Sphere of Infinite Agonies was in there somewhere."

"From when you nearly destroyed the world", Darla nodded, in understanding.

Willow's greenish eyes widened ."How did you--"

"She just does", Angel answered her while striding over to Skip. "Now, you willing to play nice, or am I going to have to make Willow go all Infinite Agony on your metal ass one more time...Skippy?"

"Okay!...okay...you got me", Skip wheezed, clutching himself. "I'll talk, I'll tell you anything...just keep that red-headed nut the hell away from me, please."

Angel turned to Willow and smiled. "Sometimes I love you, you know that?"

Willow smiled triumphantly, proud of her skill.

"Nice job, Red", whistled Faith, approving.

"Did you see that?", Kennedy nudged Molly with her elbow. "That's MY girlfriend."

Buffy took a couple of steps towards the scene, patting her best friend on the back. "Good work, Will. We're going to need that information if we want to figure out what's going on with Cordy, not to mention the First's role in this whole thing."

"Or what it's connection is with whatever's growing inside Cordy", Angel mused. He suddenly took notice at the rather large group of teenage girls behind Buffy, turning his gaze back to the Slayer. As odd as it was, in all the commotion, he had barely noticed the swarm of girls that had accompanied the Scoobies to the Hyperion. Then he recalled something Darla said about the First going after other Slayers, or something to that effect. Could these girls be a part of that?

"What's with all the girls?", he asked.

"Them?", Buffy turned back to the Potentials, standing shyly behind them. "Well, these are all...potential vampire slayers."

"They're all Slayers?", Angel asked, surprised.

"_Potential_", she repeated. "Each one of them may eventually be called as the new Slayer one day, but for now, they're all girls with some heightened Slayer-like abilities and on a pretty big waiting list." She broke off, sadly. "Or, at least they _were_ until a few months ago."

"So, what are they all doing _here_?", Fred asked, puzzled.

"The First", Wesley interjected. "Its forces have been eradicating the Slayer line little-by-little over the last several months."

Buffy looked at Wesley in surprise. "You knew?"

"We found out", Wesley said simply. "Just before your..." he trailed off as he stared at the gaping hole in what was once the Hyperion entrance. "...Arrival."

"Well, yeah", Buffy shrugged. "Anyway, I couldn't leave them behind, otherwise the Bringers would've made chop suey out of their inner organs. Hope it's not a problem." At that, she looked at Angel.

"No, of course not...I just...didn't expect you to bring so many people along", Angel said.

"That's okay", Buffy said, her eyebrow raised poignantly. "Didn't expect you to bear a son, either."

Angel looked down at the floor and sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. He knew that not telling Buffy about Connor would eventually come back to bite him. And he was hard-pressed to think of any other conversation he had ever looked more forward to avoiding as that looming blow-up.

Spike laughed out loud. "Oh, I knew I must've done something right in my day...seeing that look on your face right now..."

His annoying Grandchilde's voice painfully reminded Angel of Spike's very unwanted presence."Is _someone_ going to explain to me why I'm not throwing his irritating ass out into the sunlight right about now?", Angel tersely asked the room.

"Aww, what's a matter, Peaches?", Spike tauntingly asked, his smirk growing into a smug smile. " Got your panties all up in a bunch now, do we? Well, I can see why, seeing as how your ex-tumble just found out you got all up-and-springy and squirted out another Mini-Pouf into the world."

"Grow up, Spike", Darla chastised him as she shook her head.

"Why the bloody hell should I?", he chuckled. "You can't tell me what to do, _Mummy Dearest_. Besides...besides, this is downright amusing."

"Actually, Angel does pose an interesting point", Wesley said, casting a suspicious eye on Spike. "Would anyone care to explain why William the Bloody, one of the deadliest vampires to have been recorded by man, is standing in our midsts and no one seems interested in the least?"

Willow looked at Spike for a moment before turning back to the LA crew. "Like Angel said...things are different now."

"Some things never change", Angel said as he cast a disdainful look towards his Grandchilde. "Like the fact that the vampire you brought into MY home is a murdering, vicious scumbag."

"Or the fact that your forehead could still show an amphitheatre on it, ya ponce", Spike snorted.

"Do _NOT_ test my patience, Peroxide Boy", Angel practically growled.

"_Ooh_, Peroxide Boy", Spike mocked. "Yeah, I'm _real_ hurt now, Pouf-y. That was a low blow."

"Well, in _your_ case, Spike, that wouldn't hurt very much, now, would it?", Angel smirked.

Spike took a step up to Angel, scowling. "You trying to imply something, Peaches?"

Darla tried her hand at peacemaker. "Look, you two, this isn't the time for--"

"What, too many big words..._William_?", Angel smiled, a smile that made Spike grit his teeth and sent a powerful urge to knock Angel's head right off his shoulders.

"No, but I got a couple of small words for you, ya poncy, holier-than-thou, piss-brained--"

"**STOP IT**!", Buffy's sharp voice cut off their heated mini-argument. Both men turned to see Buffy ascending the stairs, her eyes hard and her face set in serious mode.

"Stop it, both of you!", she said, her voice assertive and demanding. "We've got more than enough to deal with without you two clubbing each other over the heads like the 'Flintstones'...or one of those stupid 'Beavis and Butt-head' cartoons."

Angel, ever so pop-culture savvy, scrunched his eyes at the analogy.

Buffy, aware of his expression, rolled her eyes. "MTV, famous cartoons, horrible animation...I'll explain later."

"Yeah, good luck wi' 'at", Spike snorted. "Angel's about as pop-culture savvy as...well, Giles, really."

Giles reddened. "Now you wait just a minute--"

"Spike!", Buffy snapped. "If you insist on making things difficult--"

"Alright, alright", Spike sighed. "I'll bloody well play nice."

Angel's chuckle, Buffy turned to him, arms folded across her chest. "Same goes for you, Angel."

"What? But he started it!", Angel complained. When Buffy's glare refused to wither, the Champion sighed. "Okay, I'll behave, too."

Fred walked over to Wesley, her eyes trained on both Spike and Angel. "What's with those two?"

"Ehm...Spike and Angel have a very...colorful history between them, so to speak", the ex-Watcher explained.

"By colorful, you mean a 'Ren & Stimpy-violent, hate-each-other's-guts' history or...?", Fred asked as she examined the two vampires, Angel glaring at Spike with his arms folded across his chest, and Spike burning a hole in the elder vampire with a look of pure contempt.

"They've tried to kill each other numerous times in the past, both with and without alliances to each other", Wesley elaborated. "At least, that's all I've gathered from Angel and some of my books."

Darla let out a sigh. "You two were always so damn childish when it came to each other."

Buffy took a glance at Darla. "You mean they've ALWAYS been like this?"

"Please", Darla chuckled. "They haven't even warmed up yet. You should hear them go on about the Ireland-England debate. I had to break up three fist-fights between them to avoid being staked by suspicious neighbors back in the old days."

A smile played on Spike's lips. "Ah, yeah, Manchester, 1893. The old barn behind Croxley and Caine Street...I had you beat, you know", he smirked as he glanced at Angel.

"YOU? Had ME beat?", Angel snorted. "Please. You're lucky Darla intervened when she did, or there'd still be pieces of you blowing around that barn right now.

"Oh, that is so typical of you--"

"You always twist the facts of what happ--"

"_**ENOUGH**_!", Buffy snapped, effectively ending the escalating argument between the two vampires. "The next one to start another argument, and _both_ of you are going to need a doctor..._badly_."

Angel started to say something, but Buffy shot him a warning look and a dagger-like finger, causing him to immediately recede any comment he was about to make.

"Huh, how about that?", Xander mused. "Gee, you'd figure they'd get along easier now, what, with Spike having a soul now and then Angel--"

Instantly, the heads of every Fang Gang member shot around to look at Xander.

"Excuse me?", a stunned Fred gasped.

"Did you just say...Spike has a soul?", Wesley asked, eyes wide in surprise.

Xander nodded. "Uhhh...guess it's news to you guys, huh?"

Angel stared at Spike in absolute disbelief. His jaw dropped and his eyes had practically popped out of his head. Spike, delighted at Angel's expression, shook his head and smiled smugly. "What's a matter, Captain Forehead? Cat got your tongue?...No, no need...that look on your face says it all."

Angel turned to Buffy, a thousand questions in his eyes. "Buffy...?"

Buffy sighed and nodded. "Uh...yeah. I...was going to tell you, but..."

"What? Slipped your mind?", Angel said, his voice clearly sarcastic.

Buffy started to say something, but then, opted to sigh again. "Things came up...they usually do whenever we're involved."

"_Another_ one?", Connor exclaimed in disbelief.

"Geez, how many of you are out there?", Gunn said incredulously.

"Just two", Angel replied, before realizing what he was saying. "One! Uh, I mean..." He sighed wearily as he realized he had no explanation to offer. "I don't know."

After a brief, uneasy silence, Angel finally asked the question on everyone's mind. "How? Gypsy curse?"

Buffy shook her head. "No...no curse. Spike...he...went off and...asked to get his soul back."

Now Angel was thrown. Surely he couldn't have heard that right. Spike, his arrogant, pompous GrandChilde, William the Bloody, the legendary saint of destruction himself...had _asked_ for his soul back?

"Asked?" he gave voice to his confusion. "He...asked? And it was just..._given_ to him?

"That's right, Peaches", Spike chimed in. "I have a few connections myself. Endured a few bone-wrenching trials, and it took weeks to get the taste of scarabs outta my mouth, but one shiny new soul later, I guess it was all worth it to see your eyes pop outta your block like 'at."

"You sure don't act like someone who has a soul", Angel growled his reply.

"Why? Because I don't walk around in pouf-y clothes with Nancy-boy hair gel drippin' outta my scalp and skulk in a corner going 'Boo-hoo! Whoa-is-Me! I did so many horrible things so I'll just sit in a corner trying to recede my already all-encompassing forehead by running my hands through it!'..?", the blonde vampire scoffed. "Please. That's your bag, Broody. There's no happiness clause in my soul...I can do whatever I want...get OFF whenever I want...on whomever..." His eyes bore into Angel's, almost poignantly.

Angel's eyes darkened with anger, his jaw clenched. He had no idea what Spike was trying to say, but he knew his smart-ass GrandChilde could only mean something to piss him off.

Buffy shot Spike a look mixed with warning and pleading, a hard, yet soft look which begged him not to elaborate any further. Spike caught her look, and his eyes softened briefly, before closing them and nodding subtly, concurring with Buffy's unspoken request.

"So, he's like a good-guy vampire...like Angel?", Gunn asked.

"NO!", both vampires shouted at once, each one with an appalled look on their faces.

"Yeah, sort of", Faith shrugged.

"He's...NOTHING...like...me!", Angel slowly answered, his voice hard.

"Got that right!", Spike retorted. "I'd sooner bury a stake in my own chest than piss in the same toilet as you."

"Believe me, there's nothing I'd like to see more", Angel shot back. "In fact, I have a stake right here--"

"ANGEL!", Buffy snapped. "The only one who's going to be doing any staking around here is me! And the both of you are starting to make me VERY dust-happy! Look, bottom line, Spike has a soul, he's on my side, which means he's on OUR side. Spike stays, and if ANYONE tries to hurt him, they'll have to answer to me! Understood?"

Hurt and shock flickered through Angel's eyes, before he shut them and nodded. Buffy saw the look in his eyes and regretted her choice of words. She wanted to apologize, but then she remembered...Angel never told her about Connor. She found that out on her own. And, boy, was she ever mad about that.

Spike nodded to himself with some...okay, a LOT of satisfaction. To see Buffy tell off Angel like that, and the look on his GrandSire's face as the cherry on top, made him want to dance a little happy jig. He would have, too, if he wasn't around so many people. And if he didn't think that jigs were for ponces.

"Um, excuse me?", Molly raised her hand tentatively. "I hate to intrude...but what are we going to do about the giant gaping hole in the center of the hotel?"

"Yeah, and besides", Kennedy said. "I'm getting stiff over here. Where are our rooms? Where are we going to sleep?"

"Oh, I can take care of the hole", Willow perked up. "I got a spell that can seal that up just like new."

Giles looked at her curiously. "It looks like you're starting to get some of your confidence back as far as casting spells go."

Willow shifted her feet. "W-w-well, i-it's nothing major. Just a little construction spell. Shouldn't even feel it. It's nothing big like...shifting about 100 people and four cars from one place to another."

"Well, that's a relief", Lorne sighed. "I was about to get a nightmare from imagining the costs of renovation."

"Judging by the mess we left?", Xander mused as he surveyed the wreckage. "We're talking at least 50 G's, for starters. I should know, I'm in the construction business."

"Fifty thousand dollars!", Lorne yelped. "That's outrageous!"

"So's that outfit", Xander smirked. Anya chuckled at his comment.

Lorne looked down at his bright baby-blue suit and yellow shirt with the red silk-tie. "Gee, ya think?", he said, looking himself over. "I was going for like a modern Rat-Pack type look, something a little less Frank Sinatra, a little more Sammy Davis, Jr. Now THAT was a guy with style!"

"Really?", Xander added. "I was more of a Dean Martin guy, myself. Girls would just hang off of him."

"You're both wrong", Andrew chimed in. "Nobody had anything on the Chairman of the Board. Frank Sinatra's an American classic!"

Both Lorne and Xander shot the boy a questioning look. "What? Comic books and sci-fi series aren't my ONLY interests, you know", Andrew said defensively. "I have SOME depth."

"Excuse me? Moe? Larry? Curly? We have pressing issues to attend to, world to save and all that", Kennedy snapped.

All three of them shook their heads and sighed. "Women."

"I can have the rest of the girls set up in rooms", Angel said. "Any order or format you were thinking about setting them up?"

"Four in each room would do, I guess", Buffy shrugged. "How many rooms does this place have?"

"Only about 150", Angel smirked. "More than enough to hold all of them...Lorne, Fred, why don't you start showing some of the girls to their rooms?...Gunn, you can do the same."

Buffy turned to the her group. "Okay, the rest of you, pair off. You'll be divided into groups of four. Pick your roommates wisely, as you'll be bunking with them until further notice. Everyone except Dawn, Spike, Willow, Faith, Giles, Anya, Xander, and Principal Wood that is. You guys can choose your own accommodations."

"Hey,cool!", Robin smiled. " I call the President Suite."

"Actually, that's my room", Angel said .

"Oh...bummer", the Principal sighed. "I was hoping I could finally stay in one where I could afford it."

"But you're staying for free", Buffy frowned.

"Exactly. I can afford that", Robin smiled. Buffy chuckled. It was good to see that the Principal had maintained his composure after the crash. IF he could keep up that cool in the upcoming fight, she liked his chances of survival.

"Hey, how come I don't get to choose my own room?", Andrew whined.

"You keep with the flapping of the gums and I'll have Angel choose out the nearest holding cell for you", Buffy said with a sweet smile.

Andrew shrunk. "Uh...n-no, that-that-that's...fine, really. I can go bunk, really."

"Good. You're staying with Spike."

Spike freaked out. "WHAT! How come **_I_** have to baby-sit the little--"

Buffy gave him a look with little room for argument. Spike grimaced. "Oh, bugger, the things I do for love", he muttered. "Come on, Spanky, it's off to change your nappies, now." He grabbed Andrew roughly by the arm and began to drag the whimpering boy up the stairs.

"Hey, hold up", Faith called. Spike stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Faith.

"I don't suppose it'd be fair to just leave the babysitting of Dorkus Maximus over there to you", she shrugged. "Besides, I need a place to get a good drag in. Mind if I come with?"

Spike's eyes lit up with interest at the proposition. He eyed Faith's curvaceous body from head-to-toe. Well, if SHE was going to bunk with him, it'd certainly take his mind off of inevitably strangling Andrew. Besides, she was a hell of a lot easier on the eyes.

Buffy eyed Faith warily. "Uh...I don't think that's such a good--"

"No, it's alright, Pet", Spike casually said, his eyes still on Faith. "Could use another smoker in 'ere, anyways. Besides, she might be the only one able to hold me back from smothering the little twerp in his sleep."

Angel looked at Faith with a concerned gaze. "Just be careful around him. He's dangerous."

"Hey, no worries", Faith drawled lazily. "Besides", she looked back at Spike and smiled, almost seductively. "It's not like I don't know how to handle bad boys."

Spike smiled amusedly, Angel scowled and Buffy had a look in her eyes that could have killed three times over.

"We'll show ourselves up", Faith said as she walked up the stairs past Spike, looking at him over her shoulder. "You coming?"

"I don't know whether or not to make a sexy little innuendo or just say yes", Spike said, smiling slyly at her.

"Flattery...will get you everywhere", Faith grinned back as she walked up the stairs, her hips provocatively wiggling. _Oh, this should be...interesting_, Spike smiled to himself as he dragged Andrew up with him.

"Well, I guess Dawn can be where I'm staying", Buffy sighed.

"Actually...I'd rather bunk with some of the girls, if that's okay", Dawn said, almost hesitantly.

"Uh...oh. Okay", Buffy replied, a bit surprised. "Sure, if that's what you want."

"Great! You can stay with us", Amanda offered as she, Molly and Vi walked over to her.

"Yeah...It'd be like a big slumber party or something", Vi smiled brightly.

"We were going to offer Chao-Ahn your slot, but...I don't think the poor thing would've understood us anyway", Molly shrugged as she looked at Chao-Ahn, who said in Cantonese, "There is a strange green demon in a multi-colored suit across from me." (She was referring to Lorne).

"Okay...Connor, could you show Dawn and her friends to one of the rooms?", Angel asked.

Connor looked hesitant, and turned to Darla for some sort of approval. Darla smiled and nodded.

"Uh...sure. Okay", he said at last as he walked over to the group. His eyes caught Dawn's again and he found himself staring at her, amazed by how beautiful she was. He felt his breath catch in his throat. How did you talk to someone like this? How did you talk to an angel?

"Um...I could...show you upstairs", Connor offered softly, almost hesitantly.

"Sure..uh...yeah, that'd be...great", Dawn nodded. After a beat, she offered her hand. "I'm Dawn."

Connor took her soft hand into his and gently squeezed. "Connor."

Dawn felt her breath hitch slightly. God, but he was cute. Like those guys on the covers of YM, or People for Teens. She'd seen and kissed some cute guys in her day, but nobody even came close to this boy, this tall, handsome, mysterious...oh, boy, was she ever in for it.

After being nudged towards him, by the others, Molly hesitantly offered her own greeting. "Um...hello! I-I-I'm Molly. And these my friends Amanda and Vi."

"Hi", Amanda waved bashfully.

"Hey!", Vi smiled amicably at him.

Connor nodded. "Hi", he smiled hesitantly. "Follow me." He led them up the stairs.

"He's gorgeous!", Vi whispered to Amanda and Molly, who giggled in response.

"Don't I know it", Dawn smirked to herself. Connor overheard her...and smiled to himself. Perhaps this wasn't going to be so bad, after all...

"Well...I guess I'll just find a place to get cozy in", Xander said .

"Me, too", Anya said. "Though not with Xander. Because we're no longer together, and I still have a grudge against him for leaving me at the altar."

"You...you two were engaged?", Fred asked, surprised.

"Emphasis on 'were'", Xander said.

"Right", Anya said, peeved. "Which is why I'm staying as far away from you as possible."

"Hey, newsflash, Little Miss ex-Vengeance Demon", Xander snapped. "Dead Boy said there are 150 rooms here. More than enough space to keep you and me WELL-distanced!"

"There isn't a DIMENSION with enough space to keep you away from me!", Anya countered, her eyes narrowed in anger.

"Well, you're going to have to try, otherwise, it's going to be a LONG...however long it takes for this whole apocalypse-thing to blow over", Xander lamely finished.

"Well, FINE!", Anya snapped.

"Fine!", Xander snapped back.

"GOOD!"

"GOOD!"

After a couple of intense seconds, Anya brushed past him and stormed up the stairs, muttering something about the consequences of sleeping with mortal men.

"Huh...ex-es", Xander chuckled. "Can't live with 'em..."

"Can't tell a good story without 'em", Gunn finished.

Xander and Gunn shared a hearty laugh, before Gunn caught Fred's icy stare directed right at him. "Uh...that's just how the joke...", Gunn tried to explain.

"Whatever", Fred rolled her eyes before grabbing a bunch of girls. "Come on, y'all. I'll show each of you where your rooms are, and y'all can figure out the rest."

The contingent of 20 girls followed her up the stairs. Gunn sighed.

"Hello, Mr Foot, meet Mr. Mouth", Gunn muttered to himself. "C'mon, girls. If you'll follow me, I'll be more than happy to show you where your new diggs will be situated."

As the girls, Xander and Robin Wood followed him up the stairs, Rona whispered to one of the girls, "Hmm, break me off a piece of that!", eyeing the tall, muscular Gunn appreciatively.

"There! All set!", Willow announced cheerfully, after a bright flash of orange light dissipated...along with a hole in the hotel entrance. And the car wreckage. And the debris.

"Way to go, Will", Buffy beamed at her.

"Good to see some things never change", Angel smiled at her.

"Aww, shucks, guys, it was nothing", Willow waved it off. "I have a harder time doing a precise glamour spell on a zit than I do of fixing a little crater-sized hole in the wall."

"Great", Kennedy said as she walked over to Willow. "Now that the heavy hocus-pocus is done, I guess we could go up to our room...get...comfortable?" Her eyes screamed desire...and sexual hunger.

Willow fidgeted a little. "Um, actually, I was thinking about crashing with Buffy for the night. You know, discuss some strategy--"

"Are you saying you'd rather bunk with her, than be with me?", Kennedy asked, offended. "I'm your _girlfriend_, for Christ's sake!"

"I know, I know, baby", Willow tried to pacify her. "It's just...well, Buffy and I--"

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy! That's all I ever get from you!", Kennedy snapped. "Always taking her side, always picking her over me, what _is_ it between you two? Or is there more to it than you're letting me know?"

"Kennedy!", Willow gasped, appalled. "Buffy's my best friend!"

"Yeah, and I'm your _girlfriend_!", Kennedy shot back. "Now, which is it going to be?"

Willow looked from Buffy to Kennedy, mulling it over for a moment, and sighed. "Alright...okay, Kennedy. Just give me a minute, and we'll go...upstairs."

Kennedy smiled triumphantly. "Great. Let's head up", she said as she grabbed Willow's wrist and dragged her along.

"Willow", Buffy called to the redhead, making both women stop.

"Yeah, Buffy?" Willow asked.

Buffy gave her a gentle smile. "If anything, my room is always open to you. Anytime you want", she said. However, her gaze shifted to Kennedy, and the smile disappeared, her green eyes narrowed.

Kennedy stiffened up. "She won't need it...but thanks for the offer..._Buffy_."

"It's still standing..._Kennedy_", Buffy retorted back, a sarcastic smile on her face.

Willow nodded. _'Thanks...I might be needing it'_, the witch telepathically told her best friend.

_'Don't I know it'_, Buffy smirked back mentally. _'Feel free to come in anytime, Will._'

Willow mouthed "thanks" before Kennedy dragged her back up the stairs to their rooms.

"Fiesty little thing, isn't she?", Lorne noted.

"You should try _training_ her", Buffy sighed, dismissively.

"Pryce", Giles spoke to Wesley. "I was wondering if we could have some words. I'd like to be able to compare notes on our respective plights. Perhaps we could find a connection to all of this...Watcher-to-Watcher, I suppose."

"Good idea", Wesley nodded. "Your supplies?"

"Ehm...right here, yes", Giles said as picked up a large brown leather duffel bag. "That's all I could manage to smuggle from the Council."

"I have some things I...relieved the Council of, myself", Wesley said. "But, you wouldn't mind if you waited for a moment, would you? I...would like to make sure that Darla is alright."

Giles looked curiously at Wesley, then to Darla and then back to Wesley again. "Uhm...yes, of course. I imagine...being resurrected must be a...disorienting process, from what I've heard."

Wesley snorted to himself. Giles had no idea that this had nothing to do with resurrections at all. He simply wanted to see if Darla was alright. The poor thing must've been frightened terribly after Buffy's attack. And the thought of that...bothered him.

"You're welcome to wait in my study, if you wish", Wesley offered. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Y-yes, thank you, that is most gracious of you", Giles faintly smiled.

"Actually...if you don't mind", Darla's voice chimed in from behind them. "I'd actually like to sit in on this researching...who knows? Maybe something I got from the Powers That Be will be jogged if I listen to some of your texts."

Wesley gave her a concerned look. "Are you sure you're not tired , or--"

"Wesley", Darla smiled. "If I wasn't up to it, I wouldn't have asked to be included."

Giles looked at them both, and nodded. "Very well. I suppose three heads may be better than two. Uh, Buffy, Angel, if you need--"

"We'll give you guys a holler", Buffy nodded. "Go. Read. Do your...Watcher-thing."

Wesley turned to Darla and extended his arm. "After you. Ladies first."

Darla chuckled. "How very gentlemanly of you."

Wesley couldn't help but to smile as she curtseid graciously and walked past both Watchers en route to Wesley's study. Was it his imagination, or did she just flirt with him?

Giles shook his head at Wesley and chuckled. "This city really has changed you, hasn't it, Pryce?"

The smile vanished, leaving a sobered and weary expression on the younger man's face. "More than you realize, Rupert", Wesley sighed as he headed for his study, Giles not far behind. "More than you realize."

That left Buffy, Angel and Lorne standing in the center of the lobby.

"Well, now that's all settled in", Lorne chuckled happily. "Man, the tension, the drama, all the blossoming love stories..."

As Lorne spoke, he hadn't noticed that now Buffy's green eyes hesitantly locked with Angel's brown ones, a thousand emotions, a thousand memories flickering within their eyes, within their minds...

"...wow, this place alone makes James Cameron's 'Titanic' look like an underwritten episode of 'Love Boat', let me tell you, with all the..."

As Lorne turned around, he found both Buffy and Angel completely oblivious to what he was saying, staring into each other's eyes as if the rest of the world had faded out, leaving only the two of them.

Lorne instantly picked up on the angsty, romantic Romeo-and-Juliet vibes coming off both warriors in waves. Not to mention a little reading on what was about to happen...

"Oh...OH!", Lorne caught on. "Yeah, well, I can see you guys have a lot of catching up to do, soooo...I'll, uh, just go see what Fred and Gunn are up to, help the girls get all settled...Buh-bye." No sooner had he uttered his farewell than he quickly darted up the stairs as fast as his green legs could carry him.

Buffy shifted from foot-to-foot, taken aback somewhat by the intensity of his gaze, and at the same time, not intimidated at all. After all, he was still the same. Even after all the obvious changes, the hotel, the new friends, even some of his clothes, one look into those deep, sad brown eyes and she could still see him, could still see her Angel. The same man she had given her heart to long before she even knew she gave it away. She could still feel him, her heart, her soul tingling with recognition. And warmth. And love.

Angel felt himself drowning in her sparkling green eyes. Darla was right. No matter how long he had lived, no matter how many women he had known, in every sense, not Darla, not even Cordelia...none of them could hold a candle to Buffy. How could they? For so long, she was his world, his sun, his beacon...his goddess. The years apart from his beloved had been long and hard, and unbearably painful, for both. It reflected in his lover's eyes, all the hardships, the deaths, the suffering endured...a mirror image of his own eyes. His own quest. But she still sparkled. He could still feel her spirit, light and kind and still pure. Still so beautiful...

"So", he finally said, after seemingly an eternity.

"So", she echoed, smiling tentatively.

"Here we are", he chuckled, a bit nervous.

"Right", she nodded. "We are...here. You...and me."

"We."

"Us."

At that, another uneasy silence fell between them. SO much to say, so complex to know where to begin...

_'Oh, boy'_, Buffy thought uneasily.

_'Oh, man',_ Angel winced mentally.

Both ex-lovers came to one conclusion.

_'This could get ugly_.'

* * *

To Be Continued...

* * *

PS...Next chapter...we'll take a peak at Whistler and Lindsey's road to L.A...and you won't BELIEVE who their mystery pick-up is! Plus, the tension at the hotel between Buffy, Angel and the gang rises up, and evil will turn up the heat on our heroes. Who will survive?

Normally, I don't do previews like that one, but I'm writing this in the middle of the night, so...bear with me.

Update expected within 1 week's time...who knows? Maybe sooner:)

See ya! And thanks for reading! (And waiting)

Yours Always, ;)

Jean-theGuardian


	10. Part 8 Feeling In, Feeling Out

Hey, guys, sorry 'bout the wait. I know, I'm evil J Anyway, shout-outs to Bunnykat, Awesome Possum, ecstacy of grief, leauh, PunkassBitch and everybody who reviewed! You guys ROCK!

Anyway, without further ado, I present to you, …………..

* * *

Bring Me to Life

Part 8

Feeling Out, Feeling In

* * *

"_43 bottles of beer on the wall, 43 bottles of beer_...", Whistler was 'singing' at the top of his lungs. If one could call his grating, scratchy, eardrum-popping rendition of the open-road classic singing, that is. 

It had been almost 15 hours on the road that Lindsey and Whistler had traveled on. Already, thanks to some quick driving, the pair had driven through several state-lines. Lindsey had spent a good deal of money on the re-fills for gas along the way, regretting slightly giving the waitress at the bar so much of his pocket money.

"_If one's not there, I don't care, 42 bottles of beer on the wall_..."

And regretting even more that he hadn't brought a pair of earplugs or a mouth gag with him…

"_Oooooh….41 bottles of beer on the wall, 41 bottles of_—"

"Would you SHUT THE HELL UP! That's the SIXTH time you sung that friggin' song since we drove past Montana! Gddamn, it's hard enough keeping awake on only two hours sleep per switch, I can do without the damage to my eardrums!" Lindsey snapped, irritably.

"What else is there to do on road trips?" Whistler shrugged. "Besides, if my singing is as bad as your driving, it'll be enough to keep you awake until we get there."

"Which is where, again, by the way?", Lindsey asked, tersely. "Look, I just took off from my life AND my job to follow you on this little venture of yours, ransacked my own apartment to grab a bag of very dangerous, highly contraband Wolfram & Hart materials even _I_ forgot about, driven halfway across the western United States territories, and I STILL have no idea where the hell it is that we're going, when we should have made a beeline right for L.A!"

"Just trust me, okay, slick?" Whistler simply replied. "Besides, we're almost there...Make a left, right now."

Lindsey looked up at the green interstate road sign just above the car as he turned left:

'Seattle, Washington. Next Left.'

Lindsey looked at Whistler in confusion. "Seattle?"

"Yup. Grunge Music, Space Needle, Starbucks...where else to find a gay ol' time, eh, pal?", Whistler grinned.

"Don't call me 'pal'. I'm not your pal, Whistler", Lindsey ground out.

The half-demon smirked. "Boy, with people skills like that, no wonder the big W & H didn't put you in their P.R. division."

Lindsey said nothing as he continued to look on into the darkness of night, Seattle's skyline dazzling in the nearby distance. Traveling with Whistler had been a...trying experience. Between the half-demon's atrocious singing, his habit of spilling coffee onto the passenger seat of Lindsey's pickup, and the demon's little insights and one-liners, it was a wonder Lindsey hadn't picked up his shotgun and blown him halfway across the interstate. Unfortunately, he knew that without Whistler's help, he had no way of getting to and helping Darla. And for that, he simply gritted his teeth, lowered his head and drove onwards into the city known as the Home of Grunge…and Starbucks.

He sighed as he found himself dwelling on thoughts of Darla. Lindsey had known many girls in his day. It was pretty easy, when one looked like he did. But out of all the girls, all the women he had known, in every sense...none of them were anything like Darla. Which, in a way was good. After all, going around with vampires was only asking to get eaten. But there was something about her that captivated him, from the moment he first laid eyes on her. The night that Wolfram & Hart resurrected her in that wooden crate. He remembered the wildness in her eyes, the look of confusion, of fear, something feral and dangerous, and at the same time, innocent. Terrified. Of course, he later learned that she was much more dangerous than he thought. But he still felt her seductive pull on him, anchoring him like a harbored ship. He remembered the late Holland Manners's words of advise in regards to his fixation with the beautiful vampire: "Remember, Lindsey. Healthy Attachments, hmm?" But then again, if he wanted healthy attachments, he never would've joined Wolfram & Hart in the first place, when he understood what it was they stood for and represented well before he signed his contract in his own blood.

He sighed lightly to himself as his thoughts drifted back to Darla. He remembered their very first kiss. The hesitance at first, then a slow, tender buildup, the softness of velvety lips, the subtle fragrance of jasmine, Darla's fragrance of choice. When he closed his eyes, if he waited long enough, he could still remember her taste, that sweetness, like honey clovered sugar...It was simply and undoubtedly the best kiss he had ever had in his life...

"Thinking about her again, aren't ya?", Whistler smirked knowingly .

"None of your business", Lindsey testily replied.

"I can tell, you know", Whistler continued. "Whenever you start thinkin' 'bout her, you get that distant, 'Days of Our Lives'-ish stare, like when Bo was staring into Hope's eyes after he rescued her from that--"

"Are you always this annoying, or did you make a special exception just for me?", Lindsey snapped.

"Little bit of both", Whistler smirked. "Look, I'm just sayin', is all...she's inside you, boy-o. In your head, in your heart...it's not too often a chick's got that kind of love mo-jo on a guy, but then again, Darla did always have a knack for drivin' guys koo-koo for Cocoa Puffs." He let out a wolf-whistle. "Now THAT was one dame built like a brick house--"

"I have a shotgun here, you know", Lindsey growled as he shot the half-demon a death glare. "Unless you fancy having whatever qualifies for you as brain matter dribbling out of your ears, you'll stop talking about Darla."

"Ooh, and now he's _defensive_", Whistler said bemusedly. "But I just got to understand something...you know, the African Killer bee, in mating season, will pursue a mate up to 100 miles from its course. That's a long way from the hive. I know your motivation here. Darla. There's a queen bee if I ever saw one. But what's your drive for the chase? Is it really love? Is it the vision of the brave knight in shiny...pickup truck, that spurs you on to the princess? Is it the thrill of the hunt? Simple lust? A guilty conscience after what you did to her, or--"

"What I DID to her? What the hell are you yammering about," Lindsey said as he turned to him with an angry glare.

"Eyes on the _road_," Whistler shouted. Lindsey quickly returned his focus to the car, and with a quick, hard steer, he pulled his truck out of the path of an oncoming SUV, thus averting disaster.

"You see what you made me do," Lindsey snapped, pounding angrily on the steering wheel.

"Hey, I'm not the one who can't juggle a conversation and drive a car at the same time, Slick", Whistler retorted.

"Conversation? You've been flappin' your gums 'bout every 3 seconds about my personal life, and you call that conversation," Lindsey scowled. "And what the hell was that about guilt? What the hell do you know 'bout my guilt?"

"He-llo? Work for the Powers that Be, here, remember? Besides, I can sense it coming off you in waves, little demon aspect of myself I sometimes use ," Whistler rolled his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, McDonald, don't play me like you don't."

"Care to elaborate or is this some sort of new torture you've devised to keep me awake behind the wheel?" Lindsey sighed frustrated.

"Oh, 'd be more than happy to, cowboy", Whistler smirked. "You once, still do, probably always will be in love with Darla, correct? Not like I can blame you, I mean, if she was any hotter, they'd have to use a fire extinguisher on every room she steps into…but I digress. But whoa, flash-forward…now, suddenly your esteemed now-ex employers dish you the files on her records…syphilitic heart condition, terminal. She's got, what, a month left ,two if she eats right? Poor thing, and she just started on her second chance at life, too. Sad thing, really…"

"Your point?", Lindsey tersely asked.

"Let me finish", Whistler said. "Now, you're in a panic. You use up all the connections the big W & H has, get about a billion opinions on the matter, which all come up the same: no luck, no dice. Nothing in the medical world can help our girl. But we both know there are other ways of getting around the stuff or mere mortals, don't we? Like say, oh…bringing in a psychotic blood member of her vampire family to turn her back into a vampire against her will?"

Lindsey's jaw clenched and his knuckles grew white as he kept his hands on the steering wheel, trying ever-so-hard not to submit to the urge of throttling him with his bare hands. "You don't know anything about that."

"I know you were the one who brought her in with your W & H flunkies, burst into her hotel room, tasered Angel 'till he nearly passed out as your boys held 'im in place until the Sane-less Wonder could do the deed—"

"They _told_ me to do it! You think it was _MY_ idea, that I _wanted_ to do it! I was following orders back then, OK!", Lindsey practically roared.

"Isn't that what Eichmann said during the Nuremberg trials," Whistler shook his head.

"Just shut up, ok," Lindsey gritted out. "If you only knew how much I've thought about that since then, the nights of sleep I lost just thinking about what I—"

"What you did," Whistler finished, looking down casually at his fingernails. "Betrayed her. That's what you did, Lindsey. Handed her over to Drusilla practically on a silver platter. You didn't sell just your soul that night…you sold hers."

The bitter memory flashed through his mind as he recalled the night Darla was turned again. He regretted that every day of his life, for having set Darla up and held in place as Drusilla sauntered in with her empty, crazed gaze as she drained Darla of her blood, and her human soul. He wanted so badly for her NOT to die, to be taken away from him, that he resorted to a last, desperate and evil resort. But he still remembered the look in Darla's eyes, the fear, the sheer horror, and, when they met Lindsey's eyes, a look of hurt. Of betrayal. Before the light completely dimmed in her eyes altogether, as death clouded them. Albeit temporarily. But the heartbreaking look on her face would be enough to haunt him the rest of his nights.

Now at last, he had an opportunity to make it up to her, something he once thought impossible. To make amends with her...and maybe, if things could be different this time, if she could see how different HE was this time...maybe he could finally earn that which he had longed for since his eyes met hers...her love...

"Okay, right turn...and we're here!", Whistler's voice snapped Lindsey out of his thoughts.

Lindsey parked the car at a screeching halt. He took a look around the surrounding area. It was a fairly seedy-looking area, few streetlights, few lights at ALL, except for the blue and green neon glow of a large sign in front of a large apartment-like building, one of many in a complex. And the people shuffling in and around the area looked like the types that you would normally cross to the opposite side of the street if they went your way.

"Hmm, startin' to miss home already", Whistler sighed at the sight, with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"I'll bet", Lindsey muttered. "So let me get this straight...this new player, someone who's supposed to make a difference in the Ultimate Final Battle between Good and Evil...is going to be found at a club called 'Sky's The Limit'?"

"What, you were expecting shiny pearly white gates, Cochran, Jr? Please, this isn't some cheesy B-movie", Whistler replied as the pair started to walk towards the entrance of the club. "It might not look like much from the outside, but the club's got a killer rep...relax, I'll handle the fees, OK?"

After giving the bouncer a $20, the two men walked down a flight of stairs into the bottom of the building...where a large bar/club full of partying 18 to 20-somethings were, either rocking out to the tunes of the band playing, hanging by the bar, or standing about making idle, but loud chitchat.

Lindsey took a glance around the smoke-filled room, shrugging. "I don't get it", he shouted over the noise to Whistler.

"WHAT?", Whistler shouted back.

"I said 'I DON'T GET IT!' SO WHERE'S THIS MYSTERY GUY OF YOURS?", Lindsey shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth to project his voice. "OR DID YOU JUST DRAG ME ACROSS THE INTERSTATES TO GET A GOOD PARTY ON?"

"HARDLY THE CASE, McDONALD, BELIEVE ME, YOU'RE NOT EXACTLY MY KIND OF PEOPLE", Whistler replied as his eyes traveled onto the stage, smiling. "BESIDES...WE ALREADY FOUND HIM."

Lindsey scowled in confusion, following Whistler's eyes towards the stage. His gaze rested on the band playing onstage. He saw the name of the band emblazoned on the drum set. 'Dingoes Ate My Baby'. He was drawn at sight to the dark-haired lad singing loudly his lyrics mixed with teen angst and rebellion, with a style so uniquely his own. The crowd responded loudly, several lighters flying upwards, heads bobbing wildly up and down and girls screaming, calling his name: 'DEVON! DEVON!'

"That's him, isn't it?", Lindsey shouted to Whistler.

"WHAT?"

"I SAID 'THAT'S HIM ISN'T IT?'", Lindsey shouted louder. "THAT'S YOUR NEW PLAYER?"

"WHO, HIM?", Whistler scoffed. "PLEASE. THAT KID WOULDN'T KNOW APOCALYPSE FROM A-MINOR...BUT THAT GUY", Whistler pointed to the one next to Devon. "THAT'S our PLAYER."

Lindsey took a glance at the young man playing lead guitar. He was incredibly focused on his playing, so focused that he barely looked up to register the crowd. But when he did, he would smile coolly, in a way that made the girls near him swoon and faint. He was small-ish, perhaps no more than 5'6", and he had blonde, spiky hair, fairly good looking. And he had a look in his brownish-hazel eyes that hinted of something more within him, something deeper than the skin-scratched surface.

Lindsey looked at Whistler, incredulously. "THAT'S YOUR PLAYER? HE SEEMS A LITTLE...SMALL, DOESN'T HE?"

"HEY, IT'S NOT ABOUT THE SIZE, IT'S HOW YOU USE IT, McDONALD", Whistler replied.

"THAT WHAT YOU TOLD YOUR LAST DATE?", Lindsey smirked.

Whistler scowled at him. "SO, I SEE THEY ACTUALLY TAUGHT YOU GUYS HUMOR AT EVIL, INC., HUH?"

"HOW DO YOU THINK WE GOT THROUGH ACCOUNTING BLUNDERS DURING CHRISTMAS EVE?", Lindsey shot back.

"WHATEVER", Whistler shrugged it off. "NOW,LET'S SEE WHAT WE CAN DO TO GAIN A LITTLE ACCESS."

* * *

The final chords of the song died down, with lead singer Devon MacLeish crowing "THANK YOU, SEATTLE! WE LOVE YA'S!" to the roar of the crowd. Devon and the band took off down the stairs, some of their fans flocking over to them, but held back by hefty security personnel. Devon, of course, in rock star fashion, motioned for a few select young ladies to join he and the band. 

"Man, how great is this life?", he crowed to the lead guitar player. "Come on, Oz, TELL me you didn't miss this."

Oz shrugged non-chalantly, as was his fashion. "Here and there. Sort of."

Ever so epigrammatic, also as was his fashion.

"Sort of!", Devon blurted as one of his scantily-clad groupies hung off of him adoringly. "Come ON, man! Things have been great! We have that meeting with that guy from Columbia Records next week, Oz, next WEEK! This could be the big break we've been waiting for in, like, years!"

"We'll do well", Oz nodded, while re-tuning his beloved guitar. "We just have to keep our Dingoes sound and there we'll have it."

"Man", Devon sighed as he autographed the top breast of one lovely groupie. "Imagine what'll happen if we get this deal? Man, the tours, the fame, the spotlight, the money...we'll be up to our EARS in chicks, dude."

"I heard that can be hazardous", Oz quipped, keeping his cool straight face as he said so.

A pretty blonde with heavy make-up, a tight black top and even tighter black mini-skirt with matching boots sauntered up to Oz as he was packing away.

"Hey", she smiled, her voice dripping with adulation.

"Hey", Oz smiled back, his voice as laid-back as he was.

"You know, I think guitar players are _sooo_...sexy...", she drawled as she trailed a well-manicured hand up his arm, smiling seductively.

"Well, we are pretty cool", Oz chuckled.

"Totally", she smiled. She plucked a piece of paper with her number on it from her side-pocket, drawing it out slowly and placing it in his hands. "Call me?", she smiled as she walked away, her hips swinging ever-so-scandalously.

Oz said nothing, only gave a half-smile and nodded. Ever the calm one. It was as if he was made of ice or steel, his composure was so unflappable. He showed little emotion and spoke even fewer words at times. But there was no denying the goodness in his heart. Or his courage when the time called for it. His days as a Scooby member battling vampires, demons and dark fiends on the Hellmouth of Sunnydale had brought that out in him.

Devon shook his head. "Man, you never change, do you, Oz? Lead guitar, you could have any chick you want in this building, and you're still the same lizzy-faire guy you were back in Sunny D."

"LAISSEZ-faire, Devon", Oz corrected. "Staying in high-school long enough to finish taught me that one."

"Man, it's a wonder you never married that cute little red-head you used to run with...Willow, was it?"

At the mention of her name, Oz's eyes flashed with both love and pain passing through them, a thousand memories, most good, some bad, all memorable passing through his mind and his heart with the mention of that one name. The name of the woman who was, still was, perhaps always would be, the queen and owner of his werewolf heart. Willow Rosenburg.

"Devon, you're my boy, and all", Oz said, as he turned to the lead singer, his face more serious than usual. "But we don't talk about Willow. Ever. Understand?"

Devon was slightly taken aback by his friend's demeanor. "Okay, okay! Geez, man, don't have a cow! I didn't know it was like that between you and your high school ex, alright?"

"Whatever", Oz said as he grabbed his guitar. "Look, I'll meet up with you guys later, okay? I'm taking a little walk."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Oz, wait, man!", Devon hastily said as he stood up as Oz did. "Dude, was it something I said, because I didn't--"

"No, it's cool, man", Oz smiled, shrugging it off. He knew Devon was a little dense, but his heart was always in the right place. "I just...wanna take a look around, you know. Seattle, and everything?"

"Well, how about me and the guys come with you?", Devon suggested, smiling. "We'll live it up, man, paint this town red--"

"Nah, it's cool, Dev", Oz shook his head. "I just...got to do some thinking, is all. Get some Oz time."

Devon nodded. "Cool...we'll meet you back at the hotel, yeah?"

Oz nodded as he exchanged his handshake/high-five with his childhood friend. "Cool. Later." They went their separate ways.

Truth be told, Devon's words did have a meaning to Oz. Especially since they involved Willow. He sighed as he remembered his beautiful, sea green-eyed goddess with the strawberry-kissed hair. He hadn't heard from her in almost two years. He thought about calling up Sunnydale, asking about her. But in the back of his mind, he held himself back. Oz knew full well she had a new life there, with a new...girlfriend. That Tara person he met when he returned there years ago. He knew she was happy, which is what she deserved. And truth, be told, he really didn't feel like Willow telling him over the phone how wonderful Tara was. It was weird enough hearing that from your ex, but it was nothing short of torture when one still was madly in love with said ex.

And yet, he held no grudge. Not against Willow. How could he? He left her, he reminded himself, time and again. The Veruca incident wasn't just a passing thing, an adventure to be looked at with boastful pride. It was a sign. A warning sign. Written with screaming blood-red letters. _Leave now. Leave before it's too late. For you. For your friends. For her._ Veruca may have been a cold-blooded killer, but her words hit a deep truth within Oz, a truth that made him realize the danger that lie in wait within.

**_You're a wolf all the time and this human face is just your disguise. You ever think about that, Oz? _**

For the longest time, hell, every couple of precious moments alone, that was all he thought about. There were lines once, faint and unstable, but existent nonetheless. He knew who he was, and he knew _what_ he was. What he became every three nights of the month, a tragic side-effect of the bite his young cousin Jordy passed on to him in a moment of innocent childhood play, and who he was since the moment his eyes first met the light of this world. But the more frequent the transformations got, the more the hunger, the craving, the raw, primal instinct took him over, the less certain he became of the lines that held the boundaries within him. The less certain he became of where the line between man and beast was anymore, no black and white, only a growing shade of gray.

Who was he, really? Was he Daniel Osbourne, 'Oz' for short, son of Timothy and Rita, lead guitarist for the Dingoes, Scooby gang member, silent genius, stoic poet, and first true love of the beautiful Willow Rosenburg?

Or was he the wolf, the insatiable, blood-thirsting, restless beast, predator of the night, tooth, claw, and roaring howl? Was he man? Was he beast? Human or animal? Hero or monster?

He needed to know. If he ever wanted to find true peace of self, and perhaps, one day, find love's way again, he had to know.

He still wasn't even sure of what prompted him to return to the states, after spending an extended period of time in Tibet under the tutelage of a wise sensei named Master Shan'tou, who taught him how to control the wild beast, the werewolf that clawed away within his body, his mind, his heart, howling, screaming for release. After he learned how to reign in the primal power within, he simply returned, hooked back up with Devon and the Dingoes, and inspired by the trials he endured over the last few years, wrote and performed music that had landed the Dingoes some widespread success in the underground circuit, enough to draw the attention of Columbia Records, who scheduled a meeting with them in the very next week. It was nice to be enjoying some success after a while for Oz. But still, he would have traded it all away in a heartbeat if he could just see Willow one more time...

_Life's a winding road_, Oz thought as he walked out the side exit of the club, hands in his pockets. _And the paths we take are numerous, split like the branches of the redwood trees...and if the stars above were the Gods, and the Gods were truly benign, then surely one path, one branch may one day lead my travels back into your arms, my love. My heart. My Willow_.

"Daniel Osbourne?", a voice called behind him.

Alert, Oz spun around in a heartbeat to find two gentlemen, one dressed in the most ridiculous attire he'd seen in some time, just a few feet from him.

"That's the name on my driver's license", he replied coolly.

Lindsey looked at Whistler and rolled his eyes. "You know, somebody ever tell you that calling out people's full names when behind them is really creepy?"

"Creepy, but it grabs your attention, don't it, Slick?", Whistler shrugged, turning back to Oz. "Hey, no worries, pal, we're not here for trouble."

"Dark alley, by myself, two strange guys know my name when I've never seen either of them before...no, no cause for alarm", Oz said simply.

"Sorry, he does that a lot", Lindsey shrugged. "I'm Lindsey, Lindsey McDonald. And the creepy little guy with the porkpie hat here is Whistler."

"Hey, watch it!", Whistler said.

"Nice to meet you", Oz said stoically. "You're not gonna, like, try to kill me, are you?"

"Don't worry, we're white hats...well, sort of", Whistler said as he looked at Lindsey for a brief moment before turning back to Oz. "Actually, we kinda need your help."

"Do tell", Oz half-smiled.

"Believe me, there's plenty to--"

"Wait", Oz silenced them with a hand gesture, before sniffing the air around him. He could pick up their scents, all right, but he smelled something else in the air...and that something...no, some-things...didn't smell human...

Whistler tensed up, evidently sensing it, too. "Uh, McDonald? You wouldn't happen to have that shotgun in hand right now, would you?"

Lindsey looked at him, suspicious. "Two of them, actually. Why?"

"We're not alone", Oz said. Just as five dark-robed figures dropped from above onto the streets...surrounding all three men.

And wielding sharp, curved blades.

Lindsey shot out both hands, drawing forth two spring-propelled sawed-off shotguns, tossing one to Whistler, while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a switchblade, tossing it to Oz, who handled it readily.

"I shoulda known you were going to get me into trouble", Lindsey said to Whistler as he set his stance in defensive position, pumping his shotgun.

"Well, don't say I never brought a little spice into your life, Lawyer Boy", Whistler said, praying silently to the Powers that they would live long enough to get to L.A...

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Hyperion... 

Buffy stood opposite Angel, somehow managing to pry her eyes away from the burning intensity of his gaze, which, at the same time was soft as well.

"Um, hate to break this fun little moment of awkward silence here, but...one of us has gotta say something soon", Buffy smiled almost shyly.

"I guess so", Angel sighed. "And the smart money's not on me."

An involuntary smile crept onto her face from his unwitting joke.

"So, uh...apocalypse stuff non-withstanding, how are you?", Buffy asked, grimacing inwardly from the lameness of her question. _How ARE you? Yeah, that's a GREAT ice-breaker, Summers._

"Ok, I guess", Angel replied semi-cheerily. "You?" _O-kay, I GUESS? What the hell was that?_, he chastised himself mentally.

"Swell", Buffy mirrored back his smile. "Um...so...I, uh...umm...like your hotel. It's very...hotel-y."

_Hotel-y? Is that even a word, _Buffy thought.

_Hotel-y? Now that's a weird one_, Angel wondered.

"Thanks", Angel nodded. "I, uh, just put some new carpeting around."

"Oh, that's…good", Buffy nodded back.

They were stalling. And both of them knew it. Dancing around the plethora of life-altering issues that lay before them, past, present and the oh-so-important future. Both of them knew the roads that they had to take to deal with those issues. It was a road too familiar for the both of them, for it was a road they had traveled together and apart. The way of pain. Of anger. Of rage. Heartbreak. Sorrow.

Loneliness.

Apparently, they weren't the only ones who noticed.

Skip rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of Pete! Can we just fast-forward to the angsty, teary, heart-wrenching part of this whole deal? At least that's more amusing than watching you two tip-toe around the issue like a bunch of 12 year-olds."

Buffy and Angel both whirled on him, their eyes narrowed.

"You know what I find amusing?", Buffy asked in a falsely sweet voice. "How's about I find Willow and her finger and get her to put a little Infinite Agony hurtin' on you? What do you think, Angel?"

"Sounds hysterical to me", Angel replied in his low, icy voice.

Buffy could have sworn that the metallic demon had gone a few shades paler. "NO! No, no, no, that-that-that's okay, really!"

"Are you sure? I mean, she's just a few doors up", Buffy asked, feigning concern.

"I'm sure she'd love to stop by, Skippy", Angel smirked, almost dangerously.

The mercenary demon chuckled nervously. "No, I, heh-heh, don't think that's really necessary, I—"

"Oh, Wi-llow!", Buffy shouted up the stairs in a sing-song voice.

"OH, GOD, no!", Skip shouted back. "Okay, I'll be quiet, I won't say another word, I swear! Just, please…keep her as far away from me as possible!"

Buffy shook her head. Underneath all of the arrogance, the snappy comments and the foreboding sense of doom the demon tried to convey, Skip was just a big, scared weasel. Out for anything that involved saving his own metallic skin. Then again, most demons she'd known turned out to be such.

Sighing, the little blonde slayer turned back to Angel. "Maybe we should…discuss…somewhere in a more quiet setting…? Y'know, without any creepy baddies listening in."

Angel smirked a little. "Liking that suggestion."

"What can I say? Born to problem-solve", Buffy smiled, making a grand gesture to herself with her arms in mock cockiness.

"And she remains ever so humble", Angel said in mock sarcasm, though smiling through the comment, as much as Angel could smile, anyway.

"Hey, you save the world a couple of times over and you'd be gloating, too", Buffy shrugged.

Angel whirled and took two large, menacing steps towards the entrapped demon. "Here's the deal. We're going to leave now. Take this conversation to a more private place. In the mean time, you are not to make any noises, you are not to speak to _anyone_ within the confines of this building. You so much as sneeze, Willow can be down here in the blink of an eye...and she won't be happy with you at all." He turned around taking a few steps back towards Buffy, when he paused and turned back to Skip. "Oh, and by the way, do you breathe?"

Skip shrugged. "Well- -"

"Don't." Angel said, that one word filled with as much stark warning and foreboding as possible. Skip swallowed hard, suddenly quite nervous.

"We'll be back", Buffy added, with a smirk on her face. "Not like you could but…Don't go anywhere."

The two warriors turned their backs to the mercenary demon and began their ascent up the stairs to a more private setting for their conversation.

Skip scowled after them. "That chick's really startin' to bug me."

* * *

There was silence, mostly. Not a word was spoken as Dawn walked side-by-side with Connor, the other girls a step behind them as Connor led the way across the long halls of the first floor of the Hyperion. 

Dawn was expecting him to start with the asking of the questions, or anything, to start a conversation going. But he mostly kept on walking, leading them further up the stairs, through the corridors. She was getting fairly anxious. There was a lot she wanted to know about this handsome new boy, who just happened to be the son of two vampires. Little did she know that Connor felt the same, anxious, even nervous about approaching her.

"So", Dawn said, looking up at Connor. "You're Angel's son, huh?"

The boy visibly stiffened, the topic of his parentage not a happy one for him. "So I'm told", Connor replied stoically.

Dawn was slightly taken aback by the non-chalant attitude of the boy, but shook it off. "Well, you sure can fight like him...it's not too many people that can give my sister a run for her money."

"Buffy...the Slayer...that's your sister?", Connor asked, his eyes turned to Dawn in interest.

"Technically, yes and technically...not exactly", Dawn sighed. "It's complicated."

"There's a lot about this world that is", Connor sighed back.

"You're telling me", Dawn rolled her eyes. At that, Connor looked at her and gave a hint of a smile.

"So, uh, Connor", Amanda spoke up. "Have you lived in L.A. your whole life?"

"No", he replied. "I'm...pretty new here."

"Truth be told, a lot of us are", Molly shrugged. "I've never even seen America until my Watcher sent me here with Mr. Giles a few months back to find safe haven with Buffy and her friends..." She paused before regretfully adding, "before he was killed, I mean."

Connor turned to Molly, a spark of interest in his eyes. "Your voice...you're from London, England, aren't you?"

Molly's eyes lit up with pride. "London-born, yes...just a stone's throw away from Piccadilly Square! How did you know?"

"My fa...", Connor paused, correcting himself. "Someone I used to know...talked to me about it a lot once. He taught me how to recognize different English accents." He broke off, staring back ahead. "Always wondered what his homeland would look like with my own eyes."

Molly sighed, nostalgia laced in her voice. "It's a beautiful country...by now they should be entering Spring-time, the blossoms starting to bloom on the trees in the city parks, just a few shades warmer, not too stuffy, but just enough to..." She broke off, wistful. "Oh, how I _do_ miss home."

"Cheer up, Molly", Amanda patted her on the back. "I'm sure you'll get back there soon enough...besides, springtime's starting in California already. And-and we have a lot of blooms around here and stuff!"

"Assuming we all live long enough to see them bloom", Vi muttered.

"Don't say that, Vi", Amanda chastised.

"Why not? In case you haven't noticed, we're not exactly making leaps and bounds in our training", Vi pointed out. "And after Annabelle, and Chloe...I don't know if even Buffy or this Angel guy can protect all of us from the First...or this new big bad, whatever it is--"

"Hey", Dawn said, as she turned around, facing the three of them. "That's where we stop. Look, you guys don't know Buffy, and you haven't seen what she can do, or what Angel can do, for that matter. But I have. When they're together, they've stopped, like, a BILLION apocalypses...apocalii, whatever...they suffer, and they hurt, but they always come through, because that's what they do. We're going to get through this. ALL of us. Because neither of them will have it any other way.

"And I don't know about you guys, but I, for one, am a little sick and tired of having to be worried about. I _want_ to make a difference, I _want_ to help. And you guys should, too. I mean, you're all Potential Slayers, with powers that are, like..._way_ bigger than anything _I've_ got. So, instead of worrying whether or not Buffy and Angel can save our asses, we should start thinking about what we can do to help cover theirs. Because that's the _only_ way we're going to count for anything around here other than helpless victim or potential worm food . Okay?"

The others looked at Dawn in awe, seeing as how this girl, who had nothing particularly special about her in appearance or fighting power, was suddenly taking a commanding role. Inspiring them. Connor's eyes lit up at her words. So, she was apparently as brave as she was beautiful. This only increased Connor's attraction to the smaller brunette, furthered his desire to get to know her better.

She turned to Connor. "So, our room?"

Connor shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. "Oh, yeah, uh...this way."

After taking a few more steps, Connor stopped the group at one of the many white doors. He opened the door wide, letting the girls take a full-on view of the beautifully refurbished room. Red silk curtains lined the spacious windows and a breathtaking balcony view of the sun-lit city. The room was lined in emerald-green wallpaper, two enormous king-sized beds to the right of the room. There was a mid-sized refrigerator built into the wall, a small kitchen within it, its new utilities shining in all their factory-fresh glory.

"Oh, my God", Vi breathed.

"It's beau'iful", Molly smiled excitedly.

"Can I live here?", Amanda wondered aloud. "I mean, it's not like I have...school, or anything..."

Connor looked at Dawn, who was as wide-eyed as the rest of the girls. "Like it?", he smiled, anxious.

"Like it? Well, DUH!", Dawn chuckled gleefully at Connor. "God, I had no idea that Angel's hotel was so beautiful. I've got to come here more often."

"Not the worst of things that could happen", Connor smirked. Dawn responded with a shy smile. Was it her or was Connor just hitting on her? Not like that would be a BAD thing or anything!

"Yeah, it's got pretty much everything here", Connor said as he took a few steps into the room, the girls a pace or two behind. "Nice view, big screen TV, plenty of room--"

His sentence was cut off as he felt the sharp impact of something breaking over his head, shattering everywhere. Connor, stunned, stumbled to the floor, slightly dazed .

The girls let out a startled cry as they all took a step backwards.

"Connor!", Dawn shouted as she came to his side, concerned. She looked up at his attacker.

"G-g-get AWAY FROM ME!" A frightened looking, pretty young girl with an unbecoming bruise on her chin was standing just a few paces away, wielding a very sharp, jagged edge of the shattered vase she used to hit Connor over the head with.

Everyone stared at this girl in shock . "Ooh, I didn't know the room came with a free homicidal maniac", Vi quipped, but with worry in her eyes.

"Vi, please", Molly chastised her quietly.

"Wh-what's going on? Who's that girl?", Amanda asked, confused.

Connor gazed up at her, shock and regret in his eyes. The girl from the factory. The one he almost got killed...he had forgotten about her.

"Oh, God...", he trailed off, stunned.

The girl's eyes ticked to Connor and her eyes went wide.

"YOU!", she hissed. She pointed the sharp piece of pottery towards him, but still kept her distance, like a frightened animal trapped in a corner. "Get away from me, you-you-you freak! You did this to me, YOU did!"

Dawn stood up slowly. "Uh, look, um...you...I-I don't know what's going on here but--"

"Oh, God! Did he kidnap you, too?", the girl asked, fright in her eyes.

Dawn's eyes scrunched in confusion. "Kidnap? Connor? What's she _talking_ about?"

Connor slowly stood, his eyes remorseful and sad. "Um, yeah, I...kinda forgot to tell you guys this, but--"

"He KIDNAPPED me!", the girl shrieked. "Took me to some weird, smelly dark place, tied me up...you were trying to kill me!"

"I'm sorry", Connor said quietly.

Dawn stared at him in disbelief. "Connor...You...you…_kidnapped_ her? But..._why_?"

"Long story", was his short response.

"You mean...she was taken here...against her will?", Molly asked, her eyes scrunched in confusion.

Vi's startled glance shot back to Connor. "But, I thought you were...like, one of the good guys", the redhead said, taking a hesitant step back.

"He IS one of the good guys!", Dawn said defensively, before turning back to Connor, with an uncertain gaze. "Right?"

"I'm on your side, I swear", Connor said, clutching his head.

Dawn took a step towards the girl, but froze when she saw that the girl held up that sharp slice of pottery up higher, letting out a slight whimper, fear in her eyes.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you, okay?", Dawn talked slowly, her hand up in a pacifying gesture. "No one here is gonna hurt you, not even him."

"Yeah, right!", the girl sarcastically said, her eyes flickering with fear, the pottery slice trembling in her hands.

"You don't believe me, huh?", Dawn nodded. With that, she extended her hands away from herself, and dropped slowly down to her knees. Her big blue eyes met the girl's frightened blue-eyed gaze, a sense of calmness taking over Dawn.

Molly stared at her in disbelief, baffled as to what she was up to. "Dawn, what are you--"

"Guys, get down like I'm doing", she told the group, without taking her eyes off the girl.

"Did you go postal and forget to give us the memo, Dawn!", Vi exclaimed, exasperated. "Look at her, she's got a...sharp thing!"

"And, helloo? No weapons?", Amanda chimed in, apprehensive. "How are we going to protect ourselves from--"

"That's the idea", Dawn said calmly. "No weapons, no stance, no chance of us being able to hurt her...we want to show her we're serious about the whole 'We're-not-going-to-hurt-you' thing, right?"

Sighing, Molly was the first to drop to her knees, mimicking Dawn's position, arms extended away from her body. Amanda then came next, followed by an ever-hesitant, very wary Vi .

"If I get killed, Dawn, I'm SO telling Buffy on you", Vi sighed.

Dawn took a sideways glance at Connor, who watched this whole event transpire with wide eyes. "That goes for you, too, Superboy."

Connor, although miffed by Dawn's little nickname for him, dropped to his knees with the same position.

The girl was watching all this, confused and scared as to what was going on. Dawn gave a tentative smile towards her. "See?...Can't exactly come charging down the gates of Helm's Deep, now, can we? We're just like you...sort of...kind of...in a way...we're not here to hurt you, honest...just put the pottery down, take a seat and give us a chance."

The girl was very apprehensive, at first, but somehow, she sensed there was truth behind Dawn's words. There was just something about this girl she'd never seen before that lulled her into trusting her. Besides, from a kneeling position, they couldn't really do much to her.

"W-will...will he...will he keep away from me?", she asked, pointing to Connor.

"If you want...I promise", Dawn said. "Come on, take a seat. You're among fr...well, good acquaintances."

After a few tense moments, the girl nodded, slowly seating herself down on the wooden cedar floor, Indian-style, settling the shard just alongside her, in case.

Connor was amazed. She didn't look it, but Dawn was quite a leader. With nothing but words and a risky idea, she had managed to disarm the girl and, at least for now, earn her trust. Connor, knowing himself, probably would've tried a more...hands-on approach. But Dawn didn't need it. She was truly remarkable, he could tell, and he'd only met her for a few minutes.

Dawn exhaled in relief, before smiling again, lowering her hands back into her lap, the others following her lead. "Guess here comes the name game...I'm Dawn. Dawn Summers. And these here are my friends, Amanda, Molly, and Vi...and he's Connor, but I guess you've...already met, huh?"

"Hi", came the hesitant greeting from the crowd.

"What's your name?", Dawn asked, smiling slightly.

The girl swallowed before softly, and nervously uttering her name. "A-Anna...?"

"Anna", Dawn nodded, smiling. "That's a pretty name."

"Um...thanks", Anna said hesitantly.

"How long have you been up here?", Amanda asked.

"I don't know", Anna shook her head, confused. "One minute I was getting home, trying to finish off a history paper due this week...then there was this guy with his...face all messed up in an alley, tried to...and then he came", she motioned at Connor. "He...saved me...and then everything went black, I woke up in some dark, scary place...he kept talking to himself the whole time, and I was just trying to convince him to let me go home and.…there was the crazy lady with the knife, and another one, dressed in white and...last thing I remember was this flash of white light, and then I woke up here."

Dawn gave her a soft understanding look. "It must've been scary for you...I know, I was...kidnapped myself once, or...a couple of times, actually. It's scary, I remember...though I try hard to forget about it sometimes."

Dawn's thoughts flashed back to the most terrifying moment of her young life, being held captive by the hell goddess Glory, to be sacrificed in an unholy ritual that would've destroyed the entire universe. She remembered well the fear, the terror, the dull aches and pains in her body…the terror when Doc, a man-reptile worshipper of Glory took it upon himself to bleed Dawn dry to open the portal. In her darkest nightmares, sometimes, she could still feel Doc's blade slice across her stomach, could smell her own blood seeping out of her, could feel the flashes of pain as her skin was pierced methodically, precisely, by the icy blade…before she could wake up either screaming, or covered in sweat.

"My mom's gonna kill me", Anna said, almost in tears. "God, she's probably worried sick about me right now."

"Well, here, use this", Dawn said, plucking out her cell phone from her side pocket, handing it over to the new girl. "Call your house up, talk to your mom. Talk as long as you like. Hey, you don't even have to give it back, I hate that thing anyways. Been trying for weeks to get my sister to get me one of the new Motorola's."

"Thanks", Anna sniffled.

"We had a friend once named Anna", Molly piqued up. "Well, actually, it was Anna-BELLE. She...was killed a while back, though. 'ts a terrible thing that happened to her. Poor Annie." Molly trailed off sadly, brief flashes of her friend Annabelle running through her mind, of that fateful night that the first Turok-han unleashed upon the Slayer and the Potentials claimed Annabelle's life as its morbid prize.

Anna took this in. "I'm sorry", she said, in a sympathetic voice. "She must've been close to you guys."

"Well, not entirely", Vi said. "I mean, I didn't even meet her, neither did Amanda, but...she was about our age. It was pretty scary to deal with, you know, when somebody as old as you, like you, just...dies?...It's weird to think about."

"I know the feeling", Dawn sighed. "God knows how many friends, kids I went to school with, I grew up with...they dropped like flies back in Sunnydale, and that was even BEFORE all this started happening."

Anna's eyes widened. "Sunnydale? You mean that freaky town upstate? With the giant snake thing and everything? THAT'S where you guys are from?"

"Actually, it was less a giant snake, more like a humongous DEMON...snake", Dawn clarified as best she could. "Well, see the thing is...Anna, there's a lot of...there's things that you don't...I mean, what I'm trying to say is--"

"Vampires are real. So are demons", Connor cut in. "They've roamed the Earth and much of the universe for thousands of years now. We fight them on a daily basis."

Dawn shot him a glare. "Way to be soothing, Tact Boy. Why not just go up and lunge at her so you can send her screaming out of here to the police even FASTER?"

"What? It's not like I'm lying", Connor shrugged. "Besides, how else could she understand why I almost did to her what I...almost did?"

"What, you mean when you kidnapped her at knifepoint, bruised up her face and apparently nearly had her killed?", Dawn said, her voice harsher than she intended to be.

"I didn't use a knife, I...", Connor broke off, flustered. "You wouldn't understand."

"Sure, I wouldn't", Dawn said sarcastically. "What, being kidnapped myself a few dozen times, what COULD I understand about fear, terror and the uncertainty of walking out alive! Or about the fact that you LIED to me, to US, about Anna?"

"I didn't LIE!", Connor snapped. "I said I was sorry, okay! I just...forgot."

"With all due respect, Connor, it's pretty implausible to forget about a girl whom you abducted and hid up in this hotel", Molly noted.

Amanda agreed. "You can forget homework, you can forget to rewind videos..."

"But forgetting a crime you committed? Not very likely", Vi finished.

Connor inwardly flinched at the word 'crime'. He had felt guilty enough already about it, but Vi's label on his actions put a different perspective on the situation. A crime. He committed a crime. An act of evil. An act against another innocent being. Acted the way not a man, not a normal person...but the way a demon would act. That which he most feared was inside him, in his blood, brewing beneath the surface…an evil thing...no, he wasn't...he wouldn't allow himself to be that...

"I know", Anna said.

"See? She agrees", Vi pointed out.

"No, not that" Anna said. "About that stuff about vampires and demons?...I know. I know they're real."

At that, the group's heads collectively whipped around at her, and they all exclaimed one single, unanimous thought aloud:

"WHAT??"

* * *

"I said 'You're sleepin' on the floor', got it, Frodo?" , Spike snapped irritably. 

"But there's two beds here!" whined Andrew huffily.

Faith smirked. "One of which I called, might I add. And since being a slayer in addition to a girl works in my favor, I say, either way, I'm restin' comfy tonight." She patted the bed she had thrown her stuff onto with affection.

"You know, th-this isn't exactly team-friendly behavior", Andrew said. "Imagine how the Fellowship of the Ring would've ended up if they hadn't learned the values of friendship, comradely and sharing. They never would've lasted long enough to make a final stand against the _evil_ Sauron and his mass of murdering hordes to save Middle Earth and make their bonds of friendship last a lifetime."

After briefly trailing off to bask in the afterglow of his brief surmise of the Tolkien classic, the skinny teenage kid looked expectantly at the two warriors, hoping that his short-lived tale would've inspired them to have shared at least one bed.

When both sets of eyes returned simultaneous blank stares at him, effectively dashing his hopes, he threw up his hands in an exasperated, almost feminine manner, defeated . "And besides, the floor carpeting makes me chafe!"

"Too much information", Faith snorted.

"And not our problem", Spike shrugged. "Unless, of course, you fancy tryin' to take the bed for yourself, mate."

"I say you guys fight for it," Faith grinned wickedly.

Andrew visibly blanched an even paler-than-his-normal color as his eyes shot from Faith to Spike, who himself seemed to be pondering the idea.

"You know, luv? That don't sound like too bad of an idea", Spike smiled, flashing a rather sinister looking grin. "What say you, little fella? Wanna give it a go wit' ol' Spike?"

"Uh, that's okay! Heh, no problem, really", Andrew quickly replied.

"You sure?" Spike asked, his smile growing even wider as he motioned to get up off the bed. "Oh, come on, it'd give your fellow joystick buddies a real tingler when you tell 'em you went toe-to-toe with a real live demon…hell, maybe I'll even let you keep some of your fingers."

"NO!", Andrew exclaimed, his voice going a few octaves higher than normal…boys. "I can do the floor. Floor guy, they call me! I am so…", he paused as he pointed down twice, gesturing to the carpeting "…the floor." He sat down Indian-style on the carpet, hands folded neatly in his lap, staring intently at both his roommates.

Sighing, Faith said, "Okay, I know I'm going to be sorry I asked, but is there a reason why you're looking at us like we've got Ewok masks and making the Klingon sign?"

"Uh, actually- -"

"Got your genres mixed up, pet", Spike corrected for Andrew. "Ewoks are the little furry blokes from that Star Wars set and the Klingons are the tall guys with the wrinkly foreheads from Mr. Roddenberry's Star Trek saga."

Faith raised an eyebrow at the blonde vampire, who shrugged. "I've had some time to sit down in front of the telly, mind you. I'm not hard on for it like Spanky over there."

Andrew breathed a sigh of relief. "Kudos, Spike, for your well-versed…ness, of sci-fi Dom…I was just basking…this is a pretty cool little moment, huh? Us three, sharing this room…the three murderers of the Scooby Gang…we've walked on the dark side, we have" he continued, his eyes narrowed in a comical impersonation of an ominous glance. "…Tasted the forbidden fruit, danced with the devil in the pale moonlight…death row, is what they call- -"

"Bloody Hell!", Spike said, his patience with the boy on ends. "Either lay your nappy little head to rest or I'll put you to bloody rest."

"Sorry", Andrew said, as he stood. "I guess I'll use the bathroom now. I haven't urinated in about 5 and a half hours and I've really had to go bad."

"Again with the overabundance of information", Faith rolled her eyes.

"You need a lifesaver in case you fall in, Spanky?", Spike snickered. "Can't have you floatin' round in LA's sewer system. God knows what sort of unmentionable things live there…you might scare 'em back up here."

Completely oblivious to the snarky remark, Andrew shook his head. "No thanks, I'm cool", before he closed the bathroom door.

"In 'is dreams", Spike snorted.

Faith let out a small laugh and shook her head. "He's a hoot, isn't he?"

"Yeah, a regular breath of fresh bloody air, 'e is", Spike muttered, as he pulled out his carton of cigarettes. "Thank God I don't breathe."

"He's a good kid", Faith shrugged. "Wish he came with a mute button or an 'off switch' sometimes, but…"

"Well, guess I'll have to get used to the little nancy. 'll be stuck wi't 'im for a bit. Figure if I can go a whole night without rippin' 'is tiny little head of 'is even tinier little shoulders, I'll be good to go." He pulled out a cigarette to Faith. "Wanna bum one?"

Faith smiled. "Ooh, read my mind." She plucked the cigarette from his hands, their fingers slightly grazing each other as she did. Spike noted the difference, her warm fingers contrasting towards his often cold ones.

"Need a light?", Spike asked, rather lazily, as he lay backfirst against the headboard of the bed.

Faith shook her head. "Got it covered, man", she smiled as she pulled out a shiny black metal Zippo lighter, a rather impressively decaled metallic skull and crossbones emblazoned on the front of the black metal of the lighter.

Spike whistled, impressed. "Nice lookin' piece ya go there."

Grinning, she replied. "Got it from an old boyfriend."

"Anniversary present or somethin'?"

"More like a 'Thanks-for-cheating-on-me-so-I-can-steal-and-pawn-all-your-stuff' present", the dark-haired Slayer replied.

"Hmm…remember who he did the deed with?", Spike asked, intrigued.

Faith let out a distasteful 'pfft' before answering, "Some red-headed bitch from a local Wal-Mart store he worked with…Imagine this, I'm 16 years old, comin' home to his place, even wanted to surprise him with a 'Metallica' T-shirt I caught him eyeballing in a mall a couple weeks earlier? I'm all giddy like a school girl, thinkin' he'll get a real kick out of it…I walk in, stupid shirt still in hand, walk right into the living room, and much to my naive little heart's surprise I find my boyfriend…with a pair of long legs wrapped around him, with Miss Wal-Mart sprawled under him like a rug, lookin' like a scene from some cheesy porn-flick."

"Ooh", Spike winced. "Had to hurt."

"It did", Faith shrugged, before smiling wickedly. "Of course, not as much as it did him after we…discussed my feelings."

"I'm guessin' there was less talkin', more fist-meets-face action", Spike grinned as he raised his eyebrows at her.

The raven-haired beauty smiled coyly. "Now what would make you think somethin' like that?"

"I'm also guessin' that's about the time you recently discovered your fantastic new Slayer powers", Spike took a guess, after puffing his cigarette.

"Pretty much around then", she nodded. "Anyway, after I beat the ever-holy crap out of my jack-off now-ex, I grabbed everything I could into a sack. His favorite clothes, cash, credit cards, jewelry, the works…burned the clothes, spent the cash, hocked the jewelry, even wrecked the car…but I liked the lighter I found in his drawer. Figured it was a keeper."

Her face flickered a brief orange glow with the light of the Zippo glaring off of her. She leaned back and lazily let out a jet stream of smoke, staring straight ahead at the wall.

Spike watched her with interest. Here she was, a slayer, bunking the same room as he was. Spike knew slayers, killed a pair of them back in his wilder days. But it was clear that Faith was an anomaly. She sensed something about her that he'd seen only glimpses of in Buffy. She had a type of joy of living within her, mingled with the experience of the horrors of life. Faith had a certain type of spark, a power. Her very aura screamed danger and warning, but it was still hard to take one's eyes off of her. She was the hot stove that mom and dad scolded their children to stay away from, but one couldn't resist giving it a tap, even if you'd be burned in the end. But then again, Spike never did care much about doing what was good for him. One didn't earn the reputation of the legendary William the Bloody by playing it safe.

"I heard that Buffy put you in charge of training the potentials," he said. "How's that workin' out?"

"I'll know as soon as I start," Faith said. "Never been much for the leadership ring, and now I'm playing teacher? A little weird."

"Well, you know what they say", Spike shrugged. "Desperate times…"

"Desperate measures," Faith smirked. "Guess B's gotta be feeling the heat to put one of her former arch-enemies in charge of training the wannabe's."

"She did what she thought was necessary," Spike said, looking at Faith intently. "Nothin' more, nothin' less, pet. And she put you in charge of it, then she thought that you were the best one up for it."

"Hey, not like I'm complainin' or anything," Faith said. "It was just…unexpected, is all."

"Well ,welcome to life in Sunnyhell," Spike replied.

"Dude…we're in L.A. now", Faith reminded him.

"Don't matter where you go, luv. The Hellmouth's vibe is felt everywhere. Even here in the Land of Fruits and Nuts."

"Yeah, well, guess those nuts fall pretty far…how else would people like us end up back here?"

"I'm not a people", Spike groused.

"Yeah, but you're not exactly a demon, either", Faith ventured. "Not really, anyway. You've got a soul now."

"But not a pulse", Spike retorted, simple, absent of aggression.

But Faith kept at it. "Buffy and Willow filled me in on some parts…told me 'bout how you've been helping out to fight this First guy…out on the front lines, keepin' the peace…some pretty damn heroic stuff. Don't figure the old you would've been up for any of that."

"Hmmph…if you'd only met the old me", Spike smirked, not bothering to tell her about the first few years he spent in Sunnydale in his less soulful, more chip-having days, when he threw himself into the heart of the battles against the powerful Hellgoddess Glory, among other fiends, all for the love of one little blonde Slayer.

He got so enraptured in his own thought that he almost didn't notice Faith looking at him, a knowing smile and a tiny little glint in her eyes.

"What?", Spike asked, baffled.

"Oh, I know a bit more about you than you think, William the Bloody", Faith said.

Spike snorted. "What, just 'cause you popped open a few textbooks and went research-girl on my life story makes you think you got the inside scoop on my head? Not likely, pet."

"Well, I did do a little reading", Faith said. "But I find the best way to know about someone is from a more…hands-on approach."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Not that I don't mind the mental visual but…meaning?"

"I mean that I've met you before…you know, pre-soul", Faith smirked.

"Is that right," Spike smirked back. "Doubt it much…'d be hard to forget meeting _you_ for the first time."

"We did, though", Faith said. "I was kinda wearing a different body."

Spike gave her a slow and steady once-over glance, before grinning somewhat lustily. "Pity."

"You seemed okay with it." Her eyes met his, brown orbs dancing with something hidden, a private joke that he was on the cusp on being in on.

Spike's eyes widened as he got it. "A body swap", he smiled. "With Buffy."

Faith laughed softly. "Give the vamp a prize…so she filled you in on that whole deal?"

"Told me it went down", he shrugged with nonchalance. "Failed to mention who was driving 'er skin around."

"Gives a whole new meaning to 'walk-a-mile-in-my-shoes', huh," Faith grinned.

"Should' a known", Spike mused. "I knew somethin' was off 'bout her that night, but…"

"You were too busy trying to keep your load from blowin' to give a crap, huh," Faith teased.

"Huh, you wish," the blonde vampire scoffed, smiling.

"No, actually, I think you were the one wishing that night," Faith slyly grinned at him. "I know that look you were giving me way too well. You were dying for a taste, weren't you?"

"Already dead," Spike retorted smartly.

"You know what I mean, smart-ass," Faith rolled her eyes playfully.

"Oh, so _I'm_ the one who wanted to give _you_ a good shag when now _you're_ talkin' 'bout _my_ ass," Spike wiggled his eyebrows.

"Eat me, Blood Boy" Faith retorted, but with a bemused smile on her lips.

Spike gave her a slow once-over look, his eyes trailing from her black leather clad legs, stretched out before her, slowly up her flat stomach, roaming over her other…features on her tight red cut-off tee-shirt, before gliding to her face, blood-red lips, pouty enough to make a man wish many a things, stopping at a twin pair of big, dark chocolate pools of eyes.

He flashed a most seductive smile, almost leery, but enough to be flattering. "Any time, any place, pet."

She raised her eyebrows, smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Sounds like a challenge to me."

A lazy smile spread slowly across his lips. "I'm always…up…for a challenge."

She gave him a slinky smile. "I bet you are."

Oh, yeah, was there ever a connection. They'd barely spoken for about five minutes and already, they could sense that. They could sense the mood becoming more and more intimate, and even though Spike was a cold corpse, even he could feel the heat starting to rise…

_Whoosh!_

And then the moment was shattered.

"Hey, guys, check it out," Andrew exclaimed as he walked out of the bathroom, bouncing up and down on his heels in giddiness. "The water in the toilet turns blue when you flush it! It's like, '_I go poo, but my poo go blue_!'"

Off of Spike's red-faced, peeved look and Faith's muffled giggle as she shook her head, Andrew brought himself to awkwardly ask, "Um…did I come in the middle of something?"

Faith turned to smirk at Spike, whose knuckles were squeezing even whiter than normal. "Come on…play nice with the geek."

Spike forced a grin that looked like he swallowed a rotted lemon. "In fact, Spanky, I think you did."

_One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand thr—oh, bugger it_.

He vamped out, growling, effectively brushing aside his chain of thought to attempt to keep a cool head.

"My _supper_."

Andrew let out a girly scream as he bolted for the door as if the devil himself were behind him. Which, in fact, wasn't that far off, as Spike was hot on his heels. "Come 'ere, ya scraggly little pansy-pickin' git! I'll tear you a new one or three!"

Faith laughed out loud this time, shaking her head. "Boys."

* * *

Elsewhere…

* * *

**Nightfall – Birmingham, Alabama**

"Girls….dirty, dirty girls."

The man wiped his blade clean, the black cloth he used now soiled with the moisture of the freshly spilled blood of the knife's ending target.

At his feet, the body of a beautiful, young brunette lay silent.

Motionless.

Eyes wide, forever freeze-framing the horror of her final moments on Earth. Her blood became a steadily increasing pool of vile-smelling crimson, the site of it very much out of place with the otherwise beautiful moonlit courtyard in the center of a small redbrick church. Quiet now, as compared to when the dying scream of a young teenage girl pierced the rural night's gentle lull.

The handsome young man's dark eyes sparkled shockingly with a sense of accomplishment as he studied his latest victim. Perhaps more shocking was his otherwise innocent appearance…black pants, black shirt, and a priest's collar around his neck. To the common eye, he would have appeared to be a preacher, a local pastor listening to confessions, comforting the lost with soothing words of forgiveness. A Sheppard to line the stray lambs on the path of righteousness.

The sight of a supposed man of God standing over the body of a dead girl, blood-streaked knife in hand, would be quite a graphic distortion of that image.

"And then he answered, 'It is written, Do Not tempt the Lord, thy God'," he said, quoting the sacred Biblical passage as he slowly circled his victim, like a vulture hovering about the carcass of a fallen cub.

"And yet, there you went, dressin' like a filthy whore, your perfume dancin' in the air like some fly trap, followin' me all the way here…didn' think I'd see, now, did ya, li'l miss?"

His voice, laced with a laid-back Southern twang was a gentle, almost a condescending tone, like a father reprimanding a toddler for running with untied shoelaces. "Didn' think I could see behind those pretty little eyes and a blossomin' little body and see that you were tryin' to corrupt me? To test my faith? Reckon I had to teach you this the hard way: A man's true strength…is his conviction." He took a deep cleansing breath. "So let it be written."

"So let it be done."

He didn't even blink at the registering of a new voice. Without turning back, he calmly answered the owner of the voice, "You ain't never gonna stop with the poppin' in, poppin out hocus-pocus, are ya?"

The First, in the form of the murdered girl, smiled as she, it, entered the courtyard. "Oh, and here I thought you _enjoyed_ me watching you work."

"Almost as much as I know you like watchin' it yourself," the man drawled.

"Cocky, aren't we," the First raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if you'd been on the roll I've been on since we put your plans in motion, hell, you'd be struttin' like a rooster in a hen house", the 'clergyman' shrugged.

"You've done well", the First conceded. "You've exceeded my expectations, Caleb. You're first few rounds in the field went smoothly. Organizing the Harbingers…"

"Quite nicely, might I add," Caleb smirked. "'Em boys can fight some'in fierce, now."

"Executing the murders of the Potential Slayers around the world…," the First continued.

"Without a hitch," the false preacher added.

"And, of course, setting up the bombs that destroyed the Watcher's Council and everyone in it."

"Ain't nothin' like the cleansin' fire to clean that place of sin," he crowed.

"Which is why I need your help a little sooner than…planned", the First sighed, discontent.

"I live to serve", Caleb said. "Tell me what you need, and thy will be done."

The First turned its attention to the cold body of the girl whose skin she was wearing. After staring down at the dead girl, she turned to Caleb. "Who was she?"

"Her?" He shook his head disdainfully at the corpse. "'Nother dirty girl. This one was a might filthier 'n the others. One of 'em potential slayer ilk." He studied the girl's face, for a moment. "At least she was. 'Till she met me, that is."

"Slayers", the First sighed. "They're like cockroaches. Just when you think you get rid of one, more of them spring up. "

"Then I'll squash 'em like ones," he said. "A bug's only as strong as the shoe that crushes the life outta 'em. And there's lots more to be purified."

"We have a little change of plans", the First said to him. "The one encharged with the vessel has compromised our security…"

"Ain't that jus' like a woman", Caleb sneered. "Always mussin' up a good man's work."

"Which is why I need you to rectify the situation", the First finished. "Send a team of your finest to L.A."

"Los Angeles?", Caleb frowned. "Why we gotta send 'em there for? I thought Sunnydale'd be our Jerusalem, and instead you're sendin' the boys to Sodom & Gomorrah? "

"The Slayer is there", the First patiently explained. "As is the Champion."

Caleb's eyebrow raised. "The Slayer? And Angelus, as well?"

"Unfortunately", the First sighed wistfully.

Caleb seemed to be a bit apprehensive now. Clearly, he was looking like he was having second thoughts. "Um, heh, not that I'd question your methods and all, but, takin' 'em both out? Seems like a tall order for the boys to handle. Not that I couldn't do it by m'self, course."

The First chuckled. "Oh, ye of little faith. Trust in my plan, Caleb. I haven't steered you wrong yet, have I? Was it not I who granted you the strength of 20 men in your fist alone?"

"Of course", Caleb bowed his head. "Forgive my doubt."

"Just do as I have told, Caleb. Everything will present itself soon enough", the First said, looking again to the corpse of the girl. "She won't be the last dead little girl."

"Speakin' of which", Caleb said, turning to the First. "The Slayer. When am I- -"

"Soon", the First said. "Patience, sweet Caleb. You'll meet her soon enough. Your time will come."

"Jus' remember. I'm your good right hand" ,Caleb said with a touch of awe in his voice.

"I know," the First replied. "Stick with me, and you'll be the one to separate the righteous from the wicked. And the righteous shall burn eternally. And the Slayer and Angelus will be the first to burn." The First looked Caleb directly in the eyes, a gaze of pure malice and evil, a look only able to be generated by the most evil, awesome force to have ever been known.

"Burn for me."

Caleb looked at the brink of tears as he smiled gleefully. "Hallelujah."

* * *

TBC…. 

Next chapter…As the Scoobies and the Fang Gang race to find a cure for Cordy, Connor and Dawn hatch a rather scary plan of their own. Can you spell T-R-O-U-B-L-E?

Buffy and Angel have a talk…'cause we know those are ALWAYS easy, _right_?

And some startling new revelations come to light!

BTW, I'm going to just stop promising when I update. Truth is, I haven't published this for a while, because I wanted it to be absolutely perfect. I refuse to write crap underneath my name. Only the best for you guys! But I swear, I won't stop until this is finished, and finished it will be, just as soon as school, work, family and other stuff eases up on me.

Read, review, suggest, and let me know what couples you'd like to see. I'll take EVERYTHING into account. Promise!

See ya!

Jean-theGuardian


	11. Part 9 Ticket to Disaster

A/N: Sorry about the long wait, guys, but you know how it is. College, Finals, work, yada-yada-yada. Hope it was worth the wait! PS, I have a sinking feeling that the Angel series finale (DAMN the WB and their stupid friggin' Frog!) is gonna probably suck, since I don't see Sarah Michelle Gellar guest-starring anytime soon. There is a petition on-line to help save Angel . Go to and click on the link that will take you to the petition to save our beloved series. Help Joss and the crew give Angel and the Buffyverse the ending that it deserves.

BTW, Does anyone buy that whole 'Buffy's happy with the Immortal' crock of sht! That had to be in part due to the network's doing, I mean I know, Joss is evil at times, but even he is smart enough not to be able to write that garbage if he had more time or special guest stars (cough, Sarah, cough) to write that. It's either Angel or Spike, that's the deal! I mean, they didn't even show this fcker on film, and already I'm tempted to write a fic on how Angel and Spike bitch-slap this dude and sweep the streets of Rome with his face.

Hmmm, wait a minute… :)

And since WHEN did Andrew become spokesman for the Slayer? I'm getting a bit pissed at him for that! If I were Buffy when she found out, well…Slayer versus uber-geek. Do the math .

Anyhow, on with the story. Without further ado, I present to you…

* * *

Bring Me To Life

Part 9

Ticket to Disaster

* * *

"I can't _believe_ the nerve of that Buffy," Kennedy fumed as she paced the floor of her room. "I mean, it's bad enough that she took away my job as trainer for the girls, let alone gave it away to that ticking STD-carrying-slut bomb…"

Willow nodded absently as she sat on her bed, tuning in and out of her girlfriend's rantings while sorting out her magick supplies in her bag. In light of the recent developments, Willow thought it'd be best if she focused on her arrangement of supplies to ready a few protection spells if things got nasty. No sense going to war against the most powerful evil alive without being prepared. Besides, in all honesty, Willow found little sense in Kennedy's arguments. It was perfectly clear that Kennedy's logical thinking was still a work in progress.

"…But now she's all 'Hey, Willow, come on up into my room, let's be gal pals, forget about your girlfriend'. I mean, I know she'd the Slayer, but seriously, where does she come off acting like such a little bi- -"

"Kennedy", Willow said sharply. "I…I think that you're trying to read into Buffy's actions a little too deeply. We're in the middle of a war. An actual, no-holds-barred, anything goes, anyone dies war, here. Buffy's just doing what she thinks we need to survive- -"

"Oh, what a surprise!", Kennedy snapped. "The infallible Buffy, never wrong in the eyes of Willow. You just love sticking up for her, don't you?"

"You don't get it", Willow sighed, patiently.

"No, I don't! And I'd like to!", Kennedy said, her arms folded across her chest. "You just let her walk all over you, over me, all of us and you just-just take it! You're the most powerful one out of all the people under this roof! She says that the Slayer is about power, right? Who's more powerful than you? No one! Not Buffy, not Spike, not that Angel guy…no one!"

"It's not all about power", Willow said. "Well, yes, to a degree, it is. But if there's one thing I've learned from my time in Sunnydale, Kennedy…power? Doesn't get you to the finish line by yourself. Power comes in groups. In numbers. You can't lose sight of that, sweetie, or you're dead."

Kennedy sighed, looking ever petulant as she did. Willow knew that the girl had been through a rough deal, her Watcher being killed and being forced to flee from her family, but she could see that Kennedy was trying to take on too much. She was like the little girl trying to wear big sister's clothes. It was admirable, cute even, but in the end, she just couldn't fit those shoes.

"Whatever", Kennedy shrugged, stopping her pace at a table, picking up her crossbow to inspect it. "So…what's the deal with this Angel guy, anyway? Everyone was making such a big deal getting here in a hurry, and all I heard from you or Buffy or Giles was how important it was to get to Angel and how he'd help us out. What, is he some sort of superhero or something?"

"Close. He's a vampire", Willow said nonchalantly.

Kennedy looked up from her crossbow at Willow, her mouth agape in shock. Then she shook her head and chuckled. "Good one, Red. Almost had me going there for a sec. Vampire, yeah, right!"

But when she saw that Willow's face remained still and quite serious, her laughter stopped. "Omigod…you're not kidding, are you?"

"Nope."

Kennedy took a moment to process this, and then her anger took over. "_Buffy_…man, I can't _believe_ her! She led the whole lot of us 200 miles from shelter and home base to bunk with a _vampire?_ And she didn't even bother to tell us about this! Who the hell does she think she _is_?"

"Kennedy, relax", Willow sighed. "Angel's not your average vamp."

"Yeah? Well, next time I see him, let's see if he _dusts_ like your average vamp!", she said, holding up her crossbow menacingly.

"Whoa, down, girl. Angel has a soul, okay? He's a good guy", Willow said.

Kennedy wrinkled her brow in confusion. "A soul, huh? You mean, like Spike?"

"I wouldn't let Angel hear you say that", Willow smirked.

"This is just…it's a lot to take in", Kennedy said. "I mean, Buffy's the Slayer, right? If this Angel guy is a vampire, shouldn't he be, I don't know, dust?"

As Willow unpacked her clothing from her suitcase, she explained. "Well, Buffy and Angel have a bit of…history together. They go way back, like years back."

Kennedy was quickly able to put two and two together. "They used to go out, didn't they? Buffy and Angel?"

"Big yuh-huh", Willow smiled, thinking back to those sweet, innocent early years. "They had, like, this epic romance. Picture Romeo and Juliet, only up the angst wattage to about a bazillion and two."

"And, you know, if Romeo were a blood-thirsty, creature-of-the-night", Kennedy added, almost snidely. "Spike, Angel…huh, that girl's got a real hard-on for monsters."

"Angel's not a monster!", Willow said defensively. "He's a sweetie. He's nice and kind and he saved my life about a billion times. So, he's no monster. Well, assuming that he remains broody guy and never, ever, **_ever_** experiences a true moment of perfect happiness."

Kennedy was quite puzzled. "Okay, Red, I'm going to need you to rewind that last bit, okay?"

Willow sighed as she continued. "There's this thing with Angel's soul. It's got some fine print on it, complete with Gypsy size-one font. Angel was cursed with his soul a long time ago. But the catch was, the soul had to make him suffer. If he ever experienced a moment of pure or perfect happiness, his suffering would end and —"

"I'm guessing the frog doesn't turn into a magical prince and whisk away to the Disney Land Castle, huh?", Kennedy snorted.

"Only if you consider Prince Charming to be a psycho, mass-murdering, fish-killing demon", Willow finished, inwardly flinching at the memory of her finding her fish, stringed together, dead in an envelope, courtesy of said demon. It wasn't so much the fact that Angel killed her fish that creeped her, though she did adore her little clownfish. It was the idea that perhaps the most ruthless and evil vampire that ever lived was actually in her room, close enough to have made her share the same fate of those fish she found.

Kennedy was still in the dark. "Huh? Willow, elaboration needed here?"

"When Angel experiences a moment of perfect happiness, the curse is lifted, which means he loses his soul and he turns back into the sleazy evil vamp he used to be, Angelus", Willow explained.

"Angelus?" Realization slowly set in on the young Potential. "Wait a minute..._Angelus_? **_The_** Angelus?", Kennedy exclaimed, her eyes widening in bewilderment. " 'Scourge of Europe' Angelus?"

Willow was stunned. "You mean you've…what have you heard?"

"Lots of stuff! My Watcher made it a point to make me study all the noteworthy vamps, with Angelus being Public Enemy number 1!", she said, her fists balled in anger. "Puppies nailed to walls, marking victims with crosses in their skin, tearing up convents…You mean to tell me that Buffy just put _our_ lives, the lives of the last few potentials around the _world_, in the hands of the most evil vampire son-of-a-bitch who ever _**lived**_?"

"He's not evil, Kennedy, not anymore", Willow tried to calm her. "He's got a soul now, he's-"

"A _monster_!", Kennedy snapped. "Willow, I've read about him, he's dangerous! I _can't_ believe that you allowed Buffy to do this!"

"I'm not in the position to _allow_ Buffy to do anything, Kennedy", Willow said. "I'm her best friend, not her keeper. I've trusted her for seven years with my life, and she's never steered me wrong. I'm not about to stop trusting her judgment, not now. Especially when it comes to Angel."

"Okay, okay, wait—you said that he goes off with this perfect happiness thing, right?", Kennedy asked, abruptly. "Does that have something to do with Buffy?"

Willow looked down, uncomfortably. She was hesitant about revealing so much of Buffy's private life to someone out of the loop, even if she was seeing that someone.

"Well? Answer me!", Kennedy demanded.

Willow looked back up. "Yeah, it does", she answered quietly.

Kennedy shook her head, disgusted. "Swell. So now our _leader_ is the thing that can set off the ticking time bomb. That Buffy's just batting a thousand, huh?"

"I trust Buffy", Willow said. "And I trust Angel. Look, Kennedy, if it wasn't for the both of them, I'd have been dead years ago…either that, or the bride of Robo-Demon". She shivered at the distant memory of her encounter with Moloch the Corruptor, who disguised himself as a student on the internet, and lured Willow into a trap that nearly forced her to become his bride. "Look, we can trust them, okay? Besides, like you said, I've got power. If Angelus decides to come out and play…I'll just turn him into a cute, little, furry mousy", she said with a smile.

"I guess that means we should go buy a cat", Kennedy said, a tug of a smile coming across her lips. "A really big one, that likes to play with its meals before it chews them to bits."

Willow let out a small chuckle. Kennedy finally smiled and closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around the slightly smaller Willow's waist. "I like when you do that", she said.

"Do what?", Willow asked.

"Make something fun out of something serious", she smiled as she met her eyes. "It's what makes you Willow."

"Well, it is pretty cool to be one of the most powerful witches in the known world", Willow grinned.

Kennedy's eyes shifted down as she eyed Willow's lips. The stare shifted into something else. A kind of longing. Desire.

For her.

"Come here", Kennedy said in a low, husky tone.

Their mouths crushed together as they felt their mutual heat radiating against each other. Willow's approach was gentle, soft, like a feather floating on air. Neither imposing, nor demanding. But she could rapidly see that Kennedy wasn't up for any beating around the bush. Her tongue practically forked its way into Willow's mouth, rapidly searching through, what started as a sweet, soft kiss starting to become rougher, full of need, demand, want.

"Whoa, hey, slow down, huh?", Willow murmured through the kiss. But Kennedy's lust was starting to get the better of her. Willow felt her girlfriend's hands sliding down her back and down onto her backside, cradling the cheeks. But when she felt her butt being squeezed hard, her eyes widened. It was rather painful, considering Kennedy's added strength as a potential Slayer.

"Okay, then!", Willow said quickly as she jumped back from their embrace, leaving Kennedy in an unsatisfied, confused, and somewhat angry state. "Um, I-I-I think that maybe we should, uh, you know, take a break for a minute, huh?"

"What?", Kennedy asked, irritated.

"Um, I mean, uh…clothes!", Willow quickly covered. "My clothes are still unpacked. We should unpack everything. You know, set up…get the bed all clear for…later?" Willow asked hopefully. In truth, she was just stalling for time. Kennedy's approach had totally wigged her.

Kennedy looked at Willow for a beat, and then smiled. "Oh…I get it."

"You do?", Willow asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah, I do", Kennedy slyly smiled. "Want to break in the bed the old-fashioned way, huh?"

"You mean jumping up and down on it and trying to touch heaven?", Willow laughed nervously. " 'Cause me and Xander used to do that all the time when we were kids-"

"You know what I mean, silly", Kennedy said as she leaned in a pecked Willow on the lips. "Sure, I'll help you set up your stuff…and maybe later, you'll get a chance to see some of _my_ stuff", Kennedy smiled wickedly.

The veiled implication was not lost on Willow. "Okay", she practically squeaked.

The girls went about folding and packing Willow's clothes into the drawers. Kennedy was placing two of Willow's favorite tops, a bright orange tee and a silky black one, into the drawers, when something fell underneath them. Kennedy noticed and picked up the object. The innocence of the object dumbfounded her. A little red-haired Pez witch dispenser, complete with matching black witch's hat.

"Never knew you liked Pez", Kennedy chuckled as she looked over at Willow, who was folding clothes. At Kennedy's comment, she turned and found her Witch Pez in her hands. Willow's eyes widened and she hastily grabbed it from her hands.

"Um, that was a…gift", she said, before placing it on top of her dresser.

"Someone gave you Pez for a gift?", she snorted. "What, the 99 cent store all out of those Dum-dum pops and plastic flowers?"

Willow looked up at Kennedy and frowned. "I thought this was very sweet", she said, defensively. She looked down at the toy candy machine thoughtfully, smiling to herself. "Only Oz would be able to think something up like that."

Now it was Kennedy's turn to frown. "Oz? Your old boyfriend Oz?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah. It was kind of a theme present."

"I don't suppose you gave him a little Pez werewolf to match?", Kennedy said, trying to mask the jealousy in her voice.

"Nah. No such luck, they don't make a Pez werewolf", Willow said absently, her mind wistfully traveling back to her high school days. "Believe me, I know…I looked through the entire Southern California region. I did manage to find him a Pez Scooby-Doo, though. I figured, 'Hey, if you can't find a werewolf, why not go for the wacky cartoon dog?'" She chuckled as she remembered the conversation she and Oz had once at her locker during their senior year, when he first presented her the present.

Kennedy looked down at her shoes, a strange feeling of insecurity creeping up on her. "I see…and what else of Wolf Boy's did you keep around? Some old chocolate wrappers? Love notes? Class ring? Letterman jacket?"

Willow shook her head. "Oz wasn't much into chocolate, I lost the love notes years ago, class rings are expensive, and no, no jacket. Oz was more into music and the Dingoes than into sports. Which was cool, because he was a pretty kick-ass lead guitar."

Kennedy thrust her hands into her pockets, clenching them hard. "Gee…sounds like a real, _fun_ guy", she ground out.

"Yeah, he was", she sighed. "Yeah, he had the whole werewolf thing going on, but…I dunno, it kinda made him all the more sexy, actually."

Kennedy had about all she could take. And she knew just how to alleviate that.

"Or then again, maybe he was just giving off some extra hormones or something," Willow still mused. " Oz always was a-"

"Okay, you know what?", Kennedy said abruptly. She took one large stride towards the bed, where she unceremoniously batted away the remaining folded clothing off the covers, scattering a rainbow of shirts, blouses and pants over the carpeted floor.

"Hey! What are you-"

"I think that's enough time getting our clothes away", Kennedy said as she slid her hands down Willow's sides.

"Now it's time…", she lowered her voice, as she leaned in and gently kissed Willow.

"To get our clothes…" Another kiss.

"A little…" And another.

"Dirty," she practically whispered as she smiled seductively.

Willow gulped. "B-b-but….clothes! A-and blouses, and all those wrinkles-"

"Can wait a little bit" Kennedy smiled mischievously. "Let's see if I can teach you a few tricks Dog Boy couldn't learn…"

Willow was offended by the crass reference to Oz, but before she could protest, Kennedy had dove in and swallowed her tongue whole. Whatever protest she was about to mount were muffled by the pressure of Kennedy's lips, as she was lowered to the bed.

Willow instinctively kissed back, but the words 'Dog Boy' floated in the back of her mind. So much that she could barely enjoy her kiss with her girlfriend. She felt Kennedy move her lips to trail kisses down the side of her neck, settling on her collarbone, and taking residence there, and raising a friggin' family, as well.

Willow peaked open her eyes as Kennedy remained latched onto her neck and absently turned her head to the dresser. Her little Witch Pez dispenser stared back at her with its little dotted black eyes.

She thought back to when Oz first gave her that Pez toy, her senior year…

_"What's this?", asked Willow, as Oz handed her a small bundle wrapped somewhat clumsily in old newspaper clippings._

_"It's a gift", he smiled._

_Willow was surprised to say the least. "What's the occasion?"_

_Another small smile. "Pretty much you are."_

_Willow opened the bundle and was blown away at what she found. "It's a little Pez Witch!", she exclaimed, thrilled._

_"Kind of a theme present", Oz shrugged. "You like?"_

_"I like! I more than like!", Willow gushed. "Oz, this is probably the sweetest…Hey, we should find a little Pez werewolf, then little Pez Witch can have a boyfriend!"_

_Oz smiled at her bouncy enthusiasm. "Don't think they make a werewolf Pez. Might have to settle for a wacky cartoon dog."_

_Willow felt her emotion beginning to well up inside her chest. "This is just so thoughtful…", she breathed._

_"Well….I think about you", Oz said, staring into her eyes. She stared back, and one glance into his soft blue eyes told her all the truth she needed to about his words._

_"Oh…but I don't have anything to give you", she pouted._

_He smiled as he gently put his hand on her shoulder. "Yeah you do", he said as they leaned in and kissed…_

….back when Oz and her were fully dating, and, unfortunately, when Xander and her picked then of all times to start a fling that, in the long run, was fruitless and hurtful. But Oz had forgiven and forgotten. All he wanted was her, and she knew that.

Funny how one little innocent trinket can open up so many memories.

After all those years, she still held onto it. It was a little reminder of him, what they had, what they went through during her groundbreaking high school years, both individually, collectively with the original Scoobies, Buffy, Angel, Willow, Xander, Cordy, Giles and her sweet Oz, as well as what they went through as a couple. Ultimately, it appeared as though it wasn't meant to be. She lost Oz twice, to both the wolf and to Tara, and Willow lost her to a stray bullet from Warren's pistol. And though she was with Kennedy now, she never forgot him. He was the first one to love her completely and unconditionally. He helped to make her stronger and for that, she would always love him.

_Oz…oh, Oz,_ she mused as she lay on the bed, Kennedy still Hoover-ing her neck. _It's been so long…I wonder what you're up to now. Whatever it is, I'm sure you're fine, cuz, you know…you're Oz. You always land on your feet._

* * *

Oz went crashing backwards into a row of trash-cans, taking a Bringer with him to the ground. He managed to kick away the knife from the Bringer's hand, but now the drone was wrestling with him for possession of the switchblade Lindsey had tossed him.

"Uh, guys? Could use a hand right about…well, now," Oz called out to his fellow combatants.

Whistler briefly looked over his shoulder. "Be right with ya, kid. Just after I take care of these-"

He sharply kicked a Bringer in the kneecap, grabbed its arm and sent it spinning out hard against the alley wall. "Crashers."

Lindsey held off two Bringers coming at him, both from each side. The one on the left smiled wickedly as it twirled the knife in its hand, the moonlight bouncing off its silvery sickle form.

Lindsey smiled back, cockily. As was his style. If there was one thing he'd learned from his time at Wolfram & Hart, it was one golden rule of survival: never let 'em see you sweat.

"Here, Slice 'n Dice. Catch!" The ex-lawyer tossed one of his shotguns to the Bringer, who caught it on reflex. In that instant, it dropped the knife, giving Lindsey the advantage he was looking for. He brought up his other hand, resting both on the other shotgun in his left hand, and brutally smashed the butt of the gun into the Bringer's face, knocking it backwards and to the ground. Just as quickly, he lashed out his left foot and kicked the second one in the gut, giving Lindsey a brief opening of space and much needed time. Without hesitation, he pumped the shotgun once and aimed point blank at the Bringer's horribly scarred face.

"Say cheese", he grinned wickedly.

One instant later, a bright flash exploded out of his gun. As did the head of the Bringer, splattering brain matter and bright red blood all over the ground where he fell.

Lindsey grimly chuckled. "Ooh, _that'll_ leave a mark." But no sooner than he spoke, the Harbinger he knocked down suddenly sprang to life and tackled him to the ground. Lindsey barely had enough time to recover his senses when his arms shot out, desperately clutching at the sharp blade the Bringer was attempting to force down into his chest.

Whistler leveled another Bringer he was fighting with a sharp left hook, picking up its knife before turning to see Lindsey's predicament. "Hey, uh, McDonald, you need any help over there?", he smirked slightly.

"No thanks", Lindsey grunted, as his left hand shifted under him, never taking his eyes off the Bringer. He could have sworn that the Bringer was smiling at its intentions as it continued to push at the knife, now dangerously hovering over Lindsey's heart.

But the merciless minion's smile faded when Lindsey suddenly bore a mile-wide grin. It took a moment to follow down his prey's form, stopping right at his hands…

…where a 9-mm semiautomatic pistol was staring right back into the dumbfounded Bringer's sown-shut eyes.

"I got this", Lindsey grinned.

**_Bang_**!

Blood splattered across the handsome drifter's face.

Two Bringers down. Three to go.

As he pushed off the Bringer's body from his own, Lindsey got to his feet, smirking cockily. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins, adrenaline surging through his system. God, but he missed this. It was too long since he last had a real good fight. It made him burn with a sensation long forgotten to him. A spark that made him feel alive again.

"Pretty good, wasn't I?", he said to Whistler.

Whistler smirked, playing with the knife in his hands. "Yeah, I guess you were-"

And then he hurled his knife twirling through the air—

burying itself deep in the forehead of the Bringer sneaking up behind Lindsey.

"Except for the part where you turned your back", Whistler sneered.

Lindsey sheepishly looked down at the Bringer's body, then back to Whistler. "I saw him!", Lindsey defensively retorted.

Whistler rolled his eyes. _Youth really is wasted on the young_, he decided.

A loud roar was heard behind them, followed by an ear-piercing wail.

They whirled around to find a graphic and disturbing scene, featuring Oz, werewolf version 1.0, snarling wildly as his jaws clamped shut around the Bringer's throat, shaking the minion much like a dog with a chew toy. From the way the blood gushed everywhere, Whistler guessed that Oz had found the jugular. Lindsey stared wide-eyed in disbelief at what he was seeing.

"Jesus…a werewolf…so that's why you stopped for this kid?", Lindsey asked, stunned.

"Part of it, anyway", Whistler said.

The Bringer's arms finally went limp, its struggles ceasing to the point where the only reason it was moving at all was because the wolf was still shaking about, its prey in mouth. Dropping the dead Bringer to the ground, the wolf managed to stand on its hind legs, oddly enough with its clothes still intact. Letting out a howl of satisfaction, the wolf's features slowly receded back into human form, as the wolf disappeared and made way for Oz to return to his birth form.

Oz shook his head, taking a moment to collect himself. "Whew…that was…a rush."

Off of both Whistler and Lindsey's stares, Oz sheepishly shrugged. "What? Do I got bad guy stuck in my teeth?"

Whistler chuckled. "I like this kid."

Lindsey stepped right up to Whistler, his blue eyes hardened like ice. "Alright, you little sneak, you've been going on with the cryptic and the mysterious rendezvous as long as I can put up with it!", Lindsey snapped. "Now I wanna know _what_ the hell is goin' on here! _Who_ the hell were those freaks with the robes? And _why_ the hell were they after us?"

Oz gave Whistler a glance. "Uh…what he said."

Whistler sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Alright, I'll be honest, here. The truth is…" he paused, taking a look over Lindsey's shoulder. "There's a Bringer behind you."

No sooner then the words left his mouth, Lindsey whipped around and drilled the last approaching Bringer with a perfect shot between the eyes from his smoking pistol, dropping the minion stone cold on the ground.

Lindsey took a look back at Whistler. " A _what_ behind me?"

"Bringers", Whistler said. "Short nickname for Harbingers. Nasty little guys, come in big numbers. They-"

"Work for the First Evil", Oz finished, his eyes lit in recognition.

"Wait, wait, wait—you know what these things are?", Lindsey asked in astonishment.

"Little bit", Oz shrugged. "A friend of mine, Buffy, once told me about them. They work for this mega big-bad."

The ex-lawyer was floored. "Buffy? Buffy Summers? The Vampire Slayer?"

"Seems you know of our favorite stake-driving superheroine, don't ya, Slick?", Whistler nodded.

"Only what I've read in the files on Angel", Lindsey said. "And a couple of stories I heard 'round some demon bars. Angel's ex-girlfriend, died saving the world twice, you know, that sort of thing."

"You know Angel?", Oz directed towards Lindsey.

The former lawyer unconsciously rubbing his right hand, which Angel had sliced off years ago. "All too well," he muttered.

Whistler cleared his throat loudly, drawing their attention back to him. "As you could probably tell by now, it's not an accident that you two are here. There's a lot goin' down right now. Mostly in Killer Kali. Major end-of-the-world stuff."

"So", Oz shrugged. "What's that got to do with me? Not that I'd like the world to go 'boom!', but…"

"Well, some of your old friends are gonna need help", Whistler said. "Some, particularly, will need your help, in particular."

Oz's eyes widened as a sense of dread crept up on him. "Willow?", he asked, a tinge of fear in his voice.

"You guessed it", Whistler nodded. "Your little Sabrina's in the middle of a major-"

"Where is she and how soon can we get there?", Oz said, his voice hardened.

Lindsey noted the spark in his eyes when his fears were confirmed about this 'Willow' whom they spoke of. There was no nonsense. No fooling around. This little spiky-haired blonde kid was making clear with his tone and his looks that he would get to this person, girl, from the sound of it, at any costs. He instantly gained a measure of respect for the kid. Because that's how he felt about getting to Darla. Nothing else in his life was important anymore, except getting to her, wherever that was.

"L.A…About another 12 hours driving time, if we speed", Lindsey said. "My pickup truck's got some good mileage on it, though."

No sooner had he said that then did Oz whip out a small black device from his pocket. Pressing the small red button, he uttered a few simple words: "Lock in on current position."

The box squawked back in mechanized voice : "Password?"

"Canus", replied Oz.

The distant roar of a vehicle amplified as a large white van pulled up out of nowhere into the alleyway. Whistler and Lindsey jumped back, startled at the sudden appearance of the van, stopping to a halt just a few feet in front of Oz himself. From the outside appearance of the van, there seemed to be nothing particularly special about it.

Except that there was no driver behind the seat of the vehicle.

"Whoa", was all a stunned Lindsey could muster.

Even Whistler seemed astounded. "Yo, check out the wheels…how'd you get a ride like that?"

"I know a guy", Oz simply explained, before talking into the black device. "Open driver and passenger doors."

The doors instantly unlocked at his command, as Oz swung around to the driver's seat.

"We can make it there in half the time it takes conventional cars in this one", he said. "Whichever one of you knows how to give directions to wherever it is we're going, hop in shotgun".

"That'd be me", Whistler piped as he eagerly sat in the side passenger seat. "You coming, Slick?"

"What about my truck?" Lindsey asked, not pleased about the prospect of leaving his beloved '57 in the streets of Seattle unattended. "I can't just take off without my truck!"

"Nice set of priorities ya got," Whistler sarcastically smirked.

"_Look_, you little pipsqueak," Lindsey ground out. "That truck was given to me by my father, it's the last thing he ever gave me before he died! I'm _not_ leaving it behind in this…pisshole of a- "

"You won't have to," Oz said. "There's a grappling hook underneath. We can tow your truck behind us on the way."

Lindsey paused for a moment, giving it consideration. At last, he nodded. "Thanks, kid."

He stepped in the back of the van, the doors closing immediately upon his entrance.

Whistler took a glance at his new traveling companions. A gun-wielding ex-lawyer with a burning passion for an ex-vampire, and a short blond kid with a werewolf's blood and a supped-up van. He just hoped that the Powers That Be knew what they were doing.

"So, this is it", he said. "We're off to save the world."

"Right. Now, make with the chatter. I need to be filled in on exactly what it is we're dealing with", Lindsey said.

With that, the van roared to life, its lights piercing the darkness of the alley like a beacon.

"Okay, gentlemen. Let's get rolling", Oz said as the van rumbled down the alleyway, off to the adventure of a lifetime, off to save mankind, off to save the women they loved…

And off to the side of the road, as the van suddenly halted.

"Um…_directions_ would be nice," Oz said.

Whistler just looked at him, sheepishly.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Wesley's study, Giles paced the floor, thumbing through an old text.

Wesley stood behind his desk, palms rested on the flat top, leaning slightly on the wood for support. Darla sat in a chair opposite him, her hands wringed tightly.

"I just don't, for the life of me, understand why something like this could've happened without a-a warning of some sort", Giles said as he perused the book quickly.

"Well, Rupert, it's not as if the forces of darkness are accustomed to giving out warning signs or caution labels in the event of an apocalypse," Wesley wryly smirked. Darla barely stifled a chuckle at his witty response, but Wesley caught her, and managed a small smile in her direction.

Giles glared, irritated at the younger man. "What I meant", he elaborated, "was why there wasn't any sort of prophecy or some written account of a vision detailing these events. Usually, the larger events, like this one, have a-a form of detail, a…something to describe the warning signs."

Wesley gave in to deep thought. "Hmm, now that you've mentioned it, it does seem rather odd that some of the more glaring signs of these events were undocumented. Between all of what transpired between our respective quadrants, the Rain of Fire, the rise of the Beast, the disappearance of the sun…"

"…the systematic murder of the Slayer line, the destruction of the Watcher's Council, the emergence of the Seal of Danthazar…", Giles continued his musings. "But these are signs that could have been, in most cases, should have been foretold."

"Maybe they were", Darla spoke up. "But what if…maybe someone, or something, more powerful kept a lid on it?"

Both men stared at the small blonde for a moment in shock. Darla squirmed a little under the attention.

"Are you suggesting that these events were…covered up, by something?", Giles asked, in astonishment.

Darla ventured, "Think about it. Events like these should have been caught through any number of seers and visionaries throughout time, but they weren't. At least, not in anything you have access to."

Wesley glanced at Darla, his brow knitted in focus. "Darla, what is it you know, exactly?"

Darla sighed. "I knew everything…maybe I still do. But whatever force the creature in Cordelia used to re-corporealize me scrambled my memory. I remember a few bits and pieces, but most of it…"

"Is gone", Giles finished for her, his features frowning.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could give you something, anything, but…" Darla trailed off, sadly.

Wesley gave Darla a soft glance. "You will, Darla. In time. For now, the most you can do is be here. Perhaps, as you said, something we find can help you recover a piece of vital information we need. Your time will come."

Darla smiled warmly at Wesley. "Thank you, Wesley."

"Don't mention it", he smiled back.

Giles was not daft. He could tell from the small looks the two were giving one another that there was more there than meets the eye. He could see the small speck of warmth in Wesley's eyes when he looked at Darla, and the softness in her eyes when she returned his gaze. So, Wesley was falling for Darla, he thought. That would explain his uncharacteristic protectiveness of her earlier.

"Ahem, getting back to the matter at hand", Giles pressed on. "You say that this pregnancy that Cordelia is experiencing will play a large part in whatever is happening?"

"Our hypothesis is that whatever this creature controlling Cordelia is planning, it is all centered around its birth", Wesley said. " It wasn't ever supposed to have happened in the first place. The child of two vampires, an anomaly of nature in and of itself, breeding with a half-demon, a Seer, such as Cordelia, somehow possibly serves as a vessel for-"

"Half-demon?", Giles interrupted, puzzled. "Cordelia was…when she become half-demon? I was never made aware of this."

Wesley sighed. "Well, a lot has occurred in the past year, to say the least, Giles. To all of us."

"Of course", Giles muttered, derisively. "_That'll_ clear it all up."

"Cordelia became a half-demon last year to be able to bear the visions she was receiving from the Powers That Be", Wesley detailed. "Her bearing of the visions eventually led her to be made a Higher Being by the Powers themselves. Or at least, we thought at the time."

"H-Higher Being, you said?", Giles stammered, amazed. "_Cordelia_ was chosen to ascend to the Higher Planes?"

"So they were led to believe", Darla cut in. "It turns out it was all a trap for the creature in Cordelia to be able to take over her body and descend to this dimension."

"Where it has been wreaking havoc from under our noses all along", Wesley frowned.

"I see", Giles said, taking his glasses off to clean them. "And it never occurred to you the oddity of how Cordelia, a normal girl with, albeit, a unique link, was suddenly chosen to ascend to a place where only beings of vast benevolence and wisdom could tread?"

"It seemed to...make sense at the time", was all a flustered Wesley could manage. "Cordelia has undergone so many changes since her arrival here in Los Angeles that we surmised that the Powers had greater purposes for her. Other than to become infected with the entity residing within her now."

"Well, obviously, _something_ had a purpose for her, _that_ much you've managed to decipher", Giles shook his head.

" I understand that this is all something of a shock for you to hear, Rupert", Wesley said, biting to control his rising hackles. "But I don't see how making derisive comments is going to be helping matters any."

"I just _cannot_ believe that you would be so careless as to have allowed this to happen to her", Giles retorted.

"It's not as if we had a _choice_ in the matter!", Wesley snapped. "We would've moved heaven and earth to prevent any harm from befalling her, but we were all manipulated! There was nothing we could do!"

Giles forced down his temper rising within his throat, taking a moment to compose himself. "You're right, Wesley. I apologize. It's just…" he broke off, wistfully. "Before any of you knew Cordelia, she was a member of our family years back. In some ways…she still remains a part of that…despite the distance, we all feel a bond with her in Sunnydale. And to lose her, would be very much like losing one of our own." He paused, considering. "We _would_ be losing one of our own."

Wesley's anger faded when he saw the genuine care in Giles's eyes. In the grief and pain that the A.I. team felt over the loss of their beloved Cordelia, he had not considered how much this would affect the Sunnydale group. They had known Cordelia long before any of them did. She had fought alongside them all for three years, up until her high school graduation, loyally, as she did with Angel Investigations. To have dismissed their feelings in the matter of Cordelia was a very grievous oversight.

"I understand, too, Rupert", Wesley nodded. "We all want to get her back."

Giles smiled weakly. "And we will."

A light dawned in Darla's blue eyes at that. "And maybe…we can", she suddenly said.

Both Watchers turned to her in surprise. "What's that?" Giles asked, hope sparking in his eyes.

Darla pushed herself up from the chair, taking a few steps back and forth, her hands rubbing her temples. She could feel something coming, memories, words, flickers of light, of knowledge…

"Infected", she mused. She looked at Wesley. "You said that…Cordelia was infected, right?"

"I did", Wesley nodded, though unsure.

"That's it, that's….", she broke off , shaking her head slightly at the fragments and pieces of information stabbing at her mind, teasing a thought, an idea, a solution. "What she had is a sort of…mystical infection. It's like a possession, but different."

"Different how?", Wesley pressed.

"The being inside Cordelia has its roots, deep in the annals of darkness", she said, her eyes staring outward ,as if she were remembering some long forgotten secret. "More…More than one."

"More than one what?", Giles asked.

"There's more than one…in her", she said.

Wesley's eyes widened as he began to slowly understand what Darla was trying to explain. "Surely you're not saying that…the creature possessing Cordelia …_isn't_ alone?"

Giles looked stunned as realization dawned on him. "There's more than one being possessing Cordelia."

Darla nodded. "Yes. I remember…the creatures inside her are old. Ancient. Two separate entities." The fog around her mind started to lift, memories slowly pacing themselves back into her. "But their relationship is a symbiotic one. They…need each other."

"What kind of relationship? Do you the…agendas of these creatures? Their purposes? What they want?", Wesley inquired.

"I don't know. But I do know that one of them is…protecting the other. Almost as if the former was taking a secondary role to the latter's."

"Almost like the parasite's…parasite?", Giles skeptically wondered.

"Perhaps", mused Wesley, his face scrunched in thought. "Unless…unless one of the entities has the specific purpose to bring forth the other one."

"You mean one of them is protecting the other?", Giles asked.

"Exactly", Darla said, turning her eyes to Wesley. "One of the entities is strictly a secondary. It's main goal isn't in its own survival, but rather to ensure the survival...or birth…of the other one."

"Yes, but is there anything you remember about…dispelling those entities?", Giles asked, taking a step towards Darla. "Anything about releasing their control over Cordelia's body?"

Darla's angelic features frowned in thought, looking briefly to the floor before returning her gaze back to the Watcher's clear grey eyes. "I think there was…something about a book. A…codex?"

"Codex?", both Watchers practically jumped at the word. Between the two of them, Giles and Wesley had acquired or had access to some of the rarest, most ancient texts in the known world. A collection that would make any mage, historian or Watcher, ex or otherwise, green with envy.

"Which codex? Do you remember a name, a color, symbol…anything?", Giles asked, his eyes infused with hope. Perhaps the answer to Cordelia's cure was in his possession right now.

"I think it was…Bisylline", Darla said.

"Bisylline?", Giles repeated. Darla watched as the hope faded from his eyes, his look of hope and the spark of enthusiasm once there now disappearing as his face fell. This didn't look good at all.

"You've….heard of it?", Darla tentatively asked.

"Yes, I have", Giles said as he took a step back, running his hand through his hair. "The Bisylline Codex. It's a…very rare book. One of the hardest to acquire. Very few have actually read it, only a description of it has been made public." His fingers ran at his chin as he recalled the intoned knowledge. "A-A golden stag, emblazoned on a cover as red as blood. Written only a few short years after the Crucifixion, by Marcus Bysylline, the head of an ancient, now extinct order of monks, whose origins date back to Saint Peter. It was, ah, r-reputed to have contained some of the rarest spells in this or any other world, as well as a very detailed description, a prophecy, of some event of…extraordinary and unprecedented magnitude. But there was only one copy of it ever written. Fortunately, the Council had the book in its possession."

"Then you have it?", Darla asked, looking hopefully at him.

Giles sighed heavily. "Ah…no. The book seems to have vanished from the Council's libraries. I looked everywhere for it, but it was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, the possibility remains that…the explosion of the Watcher's Council claimed it. In which case…"

Darla shut her eyes in disappointment. "The only copy of it in this or any other world…"

Giles sadly nodded. "…has been lost. Forever."

Wesley raised an eyebrow at the older Watcher. "Not lost. Relocated."

Giles and Darla looked at him in surprise. "Wesley, what are you-"

But even as Giles spoke, Wesley walked over to the bookcase, pulling out one of the shelves from the unit itself, revealing a small safe box. After a few turns of the combination lock, the small metallic door opened up to reveal a small assortment of books, gems, what appeared to be various small demonic body parts and other rare treasures. From this hidden treasure case, Wesley pulled out a mid-sized, blood-red book, the cover of it bearing no title, only the small golden imprinting of a magnificent stag on it.

Giles's eyes widened in awe as he laid eyes on the book. "My God, Pryce."

Darla blinked in surprise. "Wesley, is that-"

"The Bisylline Codex", Wesley said as he walked towards them, the rare book in hand. "I've had this book in my possession for years. When the Council, ah, terminated my services years ago, I was, to put it lightly, disgruntled." He managed to suppress the urge to blush. " I snuck into the library and stole the book myself, hoping that eventually, when the Council needed it, I could barter with them."

"The book for your job back", Giles surmised.

"Or at least a nicer severance package in place of the one they didn't give me", Wesley shrugged. "Of course, it never worked out that way."

"No", Giles said as he drew himself forward, taking the book from Wesley's hands, staring at it as if it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "But it has worked out. Good show, Wesley."

Wesley barely had time to utter a 'thank you' before Darla, unexpectedly, walked over to him, beaming. She placed a light kiss on his cheek, catching the ex-Watcher completely by surprise.

"And they say that crime doesn't pay", Darla chuckled.

"Umm…yes, I…let's, ah, h-hope it does, for our sakes, a-and Cordelia's", Wesley said, lowering his head at his surprising blush. He mentally shook himself, regaining his composure. "The answers we need are in the book. We've better get started deciphering the text."

"Oh, good", Giles said as he perused the pages of the book. "It's only written in Latinate. Between the both of us, we should be able to decipher this fairly quickly."

"Just like old times", Wesley smirked at Giles.

"Indeed", Giles returned the smirk.

"The sooner, the better", Darla said as she addressed both Watchers. "Whatever's in that book, we'd better find it fast. Time is the one thing that's not on our side."

* * *

"I know."

Anna stared back at the teens, who were staring back at the pretty blonde with wide-eyed surprise.

Dawn shook her head, trying to process what she had just heard. "Wait, wait, wait, hold the phone-you _know_? What do you mean you know?"

"Vampires? Demons? I know they're real...and that a lot of them are here in L.A.", Anna nodded.

Connor looked stunned. "But you didn't even know why that vampire who attacked you in the alley had his face all-"

"I knew", Anna said. "I just…wasn't sure if you guys knew...wouldn't want you to think I'm some nut." At that, her eyes ticked to Connor. An action that no one in the room missed.

"How did you know about all this?", Molly asked, ever so inquisitive.

"Well...m-my family, most of it, anyway, comes from Romania...I guess the term is gypsies, we're called", Anna explained. "My grandfather told me stories when I was little about all these wild things in the world...stories about vampires, and werewolves and sorcerers and magic. He practiced a lot of magicks, like my mom does. I was totally into it. Still am. They showed me so many things that can be done with a few words, a root of a plant, the sprinkling of powder...they've told me this stuff since I was little. It wasn't the first time I've seen a vampire in that alley, I've seen them before...just never so up close."

"That's the closest you want to get to one, believe me," Vi said.

"So, what, you guys, like, fight demons?", Anna furrowed her eyebrows.

"Basically", Dawn nodded. "Connor here is pretty strong, like...picture Spider-Man, minus the dorky red-and-blue PJ's, but leaving all the Toby Maguire cuteness." She paused a beat. "And, omigod, I just said that aloud, didn't I?"

"Dawn," Molly exclaimed scandalously.

"Um, I…," Connor awkwardly looked down, trying to hide the blush on his face. The pop culture reference was not lost on him. He'd seen the Spider-Man movie twice before during the summer with Fred and Gunn. During the time his father was, for lack of a better term, adrift.

Dawn quickly changed the subject. "And Molly, Vi and Amanda are Potential Slayers, so they've all got superhuman stuff going on-"

"Slayers?", Anna asked.

Vi shrugged. "Yeah, that's that whole 'One-girl-in-all-the-world-with-the-strength-and-speed-to-kill-vampires' bit."

"No, I know what a Slayer is", Anna said. "But...you're all Vampire Slayers? I heard there could only be one."

"Not exactly", Amanda clarified. "We're all Potential Slayers...except for Dawn."

The words stung Dawn. Since last year, Buffy had taken a great deal of time to train her younger sister in the ways of the Slayer, after realizing that she could handle herself well, even in the face of scary-veiny-Willow's apocalypse. But since the arrival of the Potentials, Buffy had refocused her energies on training the other girls and battling the First. Dawn's training had been left unfinished, pushed to the back burner. As if she wasn't important enough to merit training.

"Yeah", muttered Dawn grouchily. "Everyone but Dawn."

Amanda caught onto Dawn's displeasure, and quickly attempted to mend her words. "Dawn, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that-"

"S'okay", Dawn waved her hand. "I'm accustomed to the fact that I'll never be more than your average muggle."

"But you've still got that whole cool Key thing going for you", Amanda smiled. "That's pretty neat."

Dawn smiled a bit at that. She had filled in Amanda, Vi and Molly on her, unique, situation soon after the four became fast friends. They had been taken aback at first, especially about the part where Dawn wasn't, in her words, 'semi-technically real'. But given the chaos they had encountered since the First began its mayhem, they accepted that fact rather quickly and the girls became even closer.

Connor scrunched his brow in confusion. "What's a muggle?"

The teenage girls stared at him as if he had two heads.

"Muggles. Y'know, humans? Non-magic folk," Vi said

"From the Harry Potter book series?", Molly looked at him expectantly.

Connor looked at them blankly.

"Where've _you_ been living for the last two and a half years," Dawn gave him a strange glance.

"Quor'toth", he answered matter-of-factly.

Now it was their turn to look at him blankly.

"Quarter-what?", Dawn asked, bewildered.

"What's a…Quor'toth?", Amanda asked.

"Is that in…like, Europe or something?", Vi asked.

Molly shook her head. "Doesn't sound like any European city I've heard of."

"That's because it's not from this world", Connor said. "The Quor' toth is another dimension, a dark world separate from this reality. I grew up there my whole life."

The girls looked at him with incredulous, wide-eyed glances. "Whoa, whoa, hold the phone—are you saying you…didn't grow up on Earth?", Dawn asked, astonished.

"I guess", Connor answered in typical shortness.

"Wow!", Molly breathed, stunned. "Are you, like, some sort of alien, then?"

"Molly, get a grip", Amanda said. "Does Connor look like he stepped off a Romulan spaceship?"

"I'm just saying, is all", Molly replied defensively.

As the girls started to talk rapidly amongst themselves, Anna's voice rung up over their increasingly loud chatter. "Excuse me?"

All the girls ceased their talking and turned towards the timid girl. "I'm sorry, I'm getting lost. So, you guys are Slayers, Dawn's a…whatever, and he's some sort of crazy alien?"

"Um, looks that way", Dawn nervously chuckled.

Anna looked at them strangely before rubbing her head slightly. "And the rabbit hole goes even further", she muttered.

"You quoting 'Alice in Wonderland' or 'The Matrix'?", Dawn wondered.

"Well, I've read the book seven times. It was a favorite of mine…but I did like the movie; Keanu Reaves was really cute", Anna smiled shyly.

"Mmm, Keanu", Vi dreamily sighed.

"Please, he is SO overrated", Amanda waved her hand. "Now, Laurence Fishburne, _there's_ a guy who doesn't get enough play."

"Interesting comparison", Molly mused. "But there's a reason why Keanu was the lead in the movie."

"Aside from the hair, the eyes and the gorgeous dimples?", Dawn smirked. "Yeah, he's a hottie, but Morpheus was _sooo_ the coolest. Keanu's _way_ too much of a Ken-doll for me."

Connor could barely put up with it anymore. "I hate to break up your little movie tit-for-tat, but I think we're losing focus here", Connor pointed out. "Shouldn't we be busy trying to figure out what's going on? The world looks like it's about to end, people are dying and we're sitting around here just wasting time."

"Well, why don't you go find that weird evil lady in black and give her a good right hook?", Anna snapped. "You seem to be pretty good at hitting girls!"

Connor looked away, shame washing through him.

"Hey", Dawn said, placing a hand on Anna, who was suddenly shaking, glaring at Connor. "Look, just be cool, alright? That's over, you're safe now."

Anna slowly nodded, letting herself calm slowly.

"Well, what do we know so far?", Dawn asked the group.

"Well, we've got the First Evil", Amanda chirped up. "Can't be fought, or killed."

"And its friends, the ones with the hoodies and the crazy alphabet eyes", Molly noted.

"I think we just call them Bringers now, Moll", Vi said.

"_Harbingers_ to be precise…ooh, and there's the Turok-han vampire", Molly added, unzipping her backpack and thumbing furiously through her treasured notepad. "We also have the…Seal of Danthazar, which was used to summon it. Only able to be opened through a ritual blood-letting."

Dawn took a peak at Molly's very well detailed notes and her eyes widened in astonishment. Diagrams, notes, and accurate descriptions of the events of recent past were presented well in her large blue-colored artist's notepad.

"Whoa, Molly, who died and made _you_ Watcher Junior?", Dawn said with a touch of envy. Researching was usually her element, as of late. But it looked like Molly was developing a flair for it, as well.

Molly smiled proudly. "I decided it would suit us best if someone kept record of these events. Perhaps these notes may come in handy sooner or later."

"Sweet! Cliff Notes!", Amanda excitedly beamed.

Molly stiffened a little. "Hardly, 'Manda. I pride myself on extreme detail", she sniffed. "Unlike those ridiculous one-shot solutions you Yanks are so head-over-heels about."

"Well, what about L.A?", Vi chimed in. "I mean, we all came here because of some major brouhaha happening here, right?"

Dawn glanced at the boy. "Connor? What can you tell us?"

Connor scratched his head, thoughtfully, before speaking. "Well, there was a rain of fire back a few weeks ago…"

"And the sun blocked out after that", Anna piped up.

Molly scribbled down notes furiously into her notebook, while the others pried Connor for answers.

"Rain of fire…yeah, I heard about that", Vi said. "You wouldn't happen to know what caused all that, huh?"

Anna shrugged. "I—not really, no. The weather guys on TV said that it might have been falling debris from a space satellite, or small fragments of a meteor rock, or-"

"It was the work of the Beast", Connor cut her off.

For the umpteenth time, the girls looked at him with their wide-eyed stares.

"A Beast?", Dawn repeated, not-too-believingly.

Connor nodded. "This thing was…unbelievable. A good eight, maybe ten feet tall, horns on his head, body made out of rock…nearly invincible." He recalled the blows he suffered from the only creature he'd ever faced that had actually been able to break one of his bones, something that hadn't happened even when he grew up in the hellish nightmare of Quor' toth, darkest of the dark worlds.

He remembered a rough sketch drawing of the monster that Angel had drawn up, with color. Connor had stored it away in one of the drawers in the room, not giving it much thought. He stood and retrieved the sketch for the group to see, handing it to Dawn.

The girls gasped at what they saw, the hideous, horned head of the Beast, its sharp, jagged teeth, yellow eyes, and a solid strong body chiseled out of…well, stone, actually. It looked quite ferocious.

"Whoa", Vi blinked, staring at the picture. "Big whoa."

"That's…_that's_ what caused the Rain of Fire?" Amanda gasped.

"And blocked out the sun, apparently", Molly said, studying the creature's sketch.

Even Dawn looked in dread of the creature, and it was only a sketch. She glanced at Connor.

"You're, uh, sure that this thing's what caused all the mayhem down here?", she asked. "And not something you dreamed up after one too many late-night pineapple pizzas?"

"Positive", he nodded. "Saw it with my own eyes."

"How strong is he?", she asked. As an afterthought, she added, "It _is_ a 'he', right?"

"It's male, I think", Connor said. "It's…strong. It broke one of my ribs with one punch, it hurt Faith pretty bad, and it batted around the rest of us like we were nothing but flies." He paused, before adding. "It also stabbed my father in the throat with his own knife before tossing him off a 3-story building."

Dawn felt herself pull back in shock, Anna gasped, Vi and Amanda exchanged horrified looks with one another, and Molly looked up from her pad in surprise before scribbling down what Connor had said.

Dawn could scarcely believe what she had heard. She'd seen Angel fight before. Only a few times, granted, but she could tell he was a good, no great fighter. She'd never seen him lose a fight before; he was so strong, so fast and agile, like Buffy. So to hear that something was strong enough to have done that to Angel, of all people, er, vampires, was shocking.

A small "Oh", was all she could muster.

"Is it…is it still out there?", Vi asked nervously.

"No", Connor shook his head. "My father and Faith managed to kill it some time ago. We got the sun back when that happened."

The others breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good news", Molly nodded, scribbling down more notes. "You don't mind if I keep that sketch, do you? It would be wonderful for my archive."

"Uh, sure, go ahead", Connor shrugged, puzzled by why Molly broke out in a wide smile at his approval.

"Score one for the good guys", Amanda smiled.

"Hold on a minute, guys", Dawn said, her pretty face serious. "Obviously, that's not the end of our problems. If tall, dark and horn-headed was as bad as it got, then we wouldn't be here right now."

"She's not wrong", Connor agreed. "There's also the matter of the Beast's master. She's the one who started all of this in the first place."

"You think something was controlling this thing?", Vi asked, her eyes widening at the thought.

"Not think, I know", Connor said, his voice hardening slightly. "Cordelia…or whatever's inside her, is the one who's been pulling the strings."

"Cordelia?", Dawn gasped. "_She's_ the Beastmaster?" _And, my God, how corny does that sound?_, she thought.

"Who's Cordelia?", Molly inquired.

"An old friend of ours", Dawn replied, but her eyes still fixed on Connor. "She was one of the first original Scoobies before she left for L.A."

"She was your friend", Connor deduced.

Dawn shrugged. "Depends on whose version you're getting, but yeah, we consider her one of ours."

"Who, that crazy bitch in black from the factory?", Anna asked, distrustfully.

"Yes", Connor briefly replied.

"Why would you guys want to _help_ her? She's _evil_!", Anna exclaimed, her voice rising an octave or two.

"No, she isn't", Dawn said. "She's been taken over by something, right? That means whatever's in her is the one causing this, not Cordy. Which means the real Cordy's in trouble. And we have to help her."

Molly gave Dawn a skeptical look. "How? I mean, we're only just getting the hang of fighting vampires, we haven't been trained on fighting someone with other…powers."

"Besides, how do we even know where to begin?", Vi asked. "Or where to find this Cordelia person? Or what she even wants?"

"Pure blood", Connor mused quietly.

All heads turned to him. "What?", Dawn asked.

They could see the wheels turning in his head as he spoke. "She said…that for the baby to be born…she needed blood. From someone special, untainted." He looked at Anna. "Pure."

"Pure? I don't mean to play village idiot, but isn't blood mostly, I don't know, icky?", Amanda wrinkled her brow.

"I don't think he means a 'pure' kind of pure", Molly said.

"So, what, then we're looking for an 'impure' pure…er?", Amanda said, frowning as her logic train began to derail.

"Okay, is anyone else here totally lost?", Vi raised her hand.

"She needs the blood of a virgin", Anna finished softly.

All of the girls' eyes widened at her words.

"A…virgin?", Dawn swallowed. She turned to Connor. "That's why you…kidnapped Anna?"

Connor nodded, averting his gaze to the floor.

Dawn's eyes narrowed in thought. "But how did you know she-"

"Super senses", he explained. " I could smell it on her. She was pure."

Anna blushed furiously, ducking her head. "Oh, swell", she frowned. "Just what a girl needs to hear. That I smell like a prude."

"What _is_ it with the whole 'virgin sacrifices' thing, anyway?", Vi scoffed. "The blood of a virgin, the spit of a virgin, my God, don't these occult spell-writing-guys ever get laid or what?"

"Blood signifies life", Molly explained, her hands folded neatly on her notepad, pencil tucked above her left ear. Looking ever intellectual. "It's what keeps beings alive, grants us life. And a virgin represents purity...A being as clean and many ways unchanged as when they first entered the world. My Watcher taught me this once. The offering of a virgin's blood is seen as the offering of a pure, untainted life. _Tabula Rasa_. A clean soul, untouched by the darkness of the world. That's why virginal fluids are so potent."

Amanda nodded, impressed by Molly's display of intellect.

"Still think it's a whole big sex crock", Vi muttered.

"So, what you're saying is", Dawn said as an idea began to swirl in her mind. "She just needs any…um, virgin sacrifice?"

"Looks like", Connor said.

Each of the girls exchanged glances, before quickly looking away, uncomfortable. Connor did not miss this action. Even if he couldn't smell it on any of them before, their body language was more than enough to let him in on their silent admission.

They were all…pure.

Suddenly, Dawn stood up. Her eyes, though sparkling with a new idea, were hard and serious, her posture straight and upright. Commanding. "No problem", she addressed the group. "She wants virgin blood? I say we give it to her."

A low mumble of 'What's could be heard among the girls. Anna's eyes widened in fear as she began to retreat from the group. "No, _no_! I'm _not_ going back-"

"No", Dawn said, her voice calm, her eyes meeting Anna's. "You're not." Her next words, however, stunned them all. "But _I_ am."

They were stunned into silence. For a whole 5 seconds.

And then, they reacted.

"_What_? You _can't!_," Connor practically roared.

"Dawn, that's _crazy_!", Amanda chastised.

"She'll _kill_ you, Dawn! Without a _thought_!", Molly shook her head, completely opposed to the idea.

"Or", Dawn mused. "I might get lucky, and bring her down. Whichever comes first."

Molly stared at her incredulously for a moment. "Oh, good, _that_ really inspires confidence."

"Buffy's _not_ gonna like this", Vi warned.

"Which is why _nobody's_ going to tell her", Dawn said, blue eyes narrowed, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Connor, do you remember where Cordelia was last time?"

The boy was quiet for a moment, before responding. "Yeah."

"So you could take me there if I needed to get there, then?"

"I could", he said, frowning. "But I _won't_."

"Wrong", Dawn's steely voice shot back. "You can, and you _will_."

"You don't even know what you're doing!", Connor said bitingly.

Her blue eyes flashed. "Don't talk to me like I'm just some stupid kid!"

"You think this is going to be easy? Just sweep in and take her down?", he snapped. "You haven't seen Cordelia, not like this. Your friends are right. She'll kill you before you can even think! _And_ she can use _your_ blood to finish the ritual!"

"Then, _what_?" Dawn retorted, irritated. "We just sit here on our asses while she finds some other poor, defenseless girl to go all Helter Skelter on? Wait until the world goes to hell in a hand basket anyway? Thanks, but I'll pass."

"She's dangerous", Connor quietly said, his anger starting to turn into dread. Not for himself, but for Dawn. The thought of putting Dawn in harm's way, let alone in the path of 'Cordelia' right now, scared him beyond belief.

"I know", she nodded. "But this might be the only way to draw her out. And the only way to save some lives. And let's face it, we don't have much time." She added. "Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find virgins in L.A.?"

Anna, once quiet and shy, now barely stifled a laugh, while Vi, Amanda and Molly all exchanged knowing smiles.

"But-", Connor softly began.

"Connor", she put her hand up. "I know. But I'm going, whether you like it or not. I just need to know right now…" She put a hand on his arm. Their eyes met, and something like electricity jolted through them at the contact. "Are you in or out?"

_This is insane_, Connor thought. _She's so naive, so…vulnerable. She can't go up against something like 'Cordelia' alone. _

_No. _

_Not alone._

He took her hand in his, and he made his decision. "I'm in", he said softly.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. "Thank you."

"Me, too", Vi said, standing up. "No way am I letting you face certain death alone. Where's the fun in that?" The redhead wrinkled her nose.

"I second that", Molly nodded, smiling as she stood up.

"So do I", Amanda said, also standing up.

Dawn was touched. She could scarcely believe that her newfound friends cared about her so much that they were willing to walk into the belly of the beast (master) to ensure her safety. She knew she had chosen her friends wisely.

"Thanks, guys", Dawn smiled warmly. "But someone's got to stay here with Anna, keep her company."

"We're probably going to need some backup", Connor suggested. "Just in case something goes wrong. 'Cordelia' is smart, she can figure things out quickly. We might need some extra muscle to make the save."

Dawn considered his words for a moment. "Strength in numbers. Alright then. Amanda, you stay with Anna. Try to stall Buffy if she comes in to check on us. Make up something, anything."

Amanda nodded. "I can do that."

"Good", she nodded. "Vi, Molly, gather your weapons. Knives and crossbows should do the trick. You're coming with us."

"On it", Molly said crisply as she moved to grab her weapons bag.

"Cool, I'm the muscle!", Vi happily chirped.

Dawn smiled at her enthusiasm. "Just be ready to move at a moment's notice. Think you can do that?"

"No sweat", Vi said, her voice unwavering and confident.

"Good", Dawn said, before sheepishly adding. " 'Cause we're kinda making this up as we go along."

"Not exactly singin' my tune", Molly smirked as she handed Dawn a small knife with a black handle.

"There's an side exit passage down the hall, third door to the right", Connor said, checking his boot knives and his stake in the back of his pants waistband. "We can be gone before anyone notices."

Dawn gave him a knowing smirk. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

He grinned wickedly back at her. "More than you know."

"Good. We better get moving", Dawn said before heading for the door, Connor at her side, Molly and Vi anchoring them, weapons in tow.

"Dawn", Anna's voice called out to the group.

The Slayer's sister paused, and turned to look at the newly found girl.

Newly found friend.

"Yeah?"

Anna gave a small smile. "Good luck."

Dawn gave her a grin. "Thanks."

"And don't get killed", Amanda added.

"We _won't_", Dawn sighed exasperated, before the four young warriors-in-training headed out the door.

"I'm going to hold you to that", Amanda said quietly, exchanging glances with Anna. She prayed to whoever was listening, whatever Higher Power would hear her, that her friends would come back quickly, alive and in one piece.

Because a pissed off Slayer was not good for anyone or anything to be around.

Ally or otherwise.

* * *

But then again, some lessons can only be learned the hard way.

Or in Angel's case, _re_learned.

For quite a bit of time since they retreated up to Angel's private study, they sat across from each other, a small bit of space the only barrier between them.

Her thoughts were cautiously measuring him. She could feel Angel's anxiety coming off of him in waves. Even if they hadn't shared the bond they did, any one could tell that, aside from his good clothes, his face was looking rather worn. Like he hadn't slept in a while. Granted, while he was always master of the brooding from what she remembered of him, he hadn't looked this stressed since the days of his recovery from returning from Hell. But Angel wasn't meeting her look, only glancing down at his hands, wringed so tightly they could've strangled a horse. He had barely spoken since they got to his room. So, she decided to catch him off guard with the one thing she knew was guaranteed to shock him into motion.

"So", Buffy cleared her throat before she spoke. "A son, huh?"

Angel's eyes flickered up to meet hers, and for a moment, he hesitated. This was a topic that he hoped wouldn't come up between them. "I, uh…how did you know about-"

"Word travels fast in the underworld", Buffy noted. "And if that wasn't enough, I found one of your letters to Willow lying around the house earlier this year. Told her all about your son, who you had with…Darla." She had to swallow hard before finishing that sentence. It was like swallowing a small rock in her throat.

He looked down for a moment, shame washing over him. He could see a faint trace of pain in her green eyes and he cursed himself for causing her pain. Again.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you", he began softly. "I just…I wasn't sure how to."

"Well, see, there's these nifty little things that were invented a little while back. They're called telephones", she sarcastically retorted.

"Would you really have wanted to hear it over the phone?"

Buffy paused for a moment, reconsidering her last comment. "No…I guess not." She stared at Angel for a moment, holding her gaze until he met her eyes. "Angel, what's happened to you down here? I mean, Cordy's gone apocalyptically evil, Wesley's sprouting chest hair, and you're…a dad." She had to stop herself for a moment before going on. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

Angel sighed, folding his hands in his lap. "It's more of a question of what hasn't happened."

"Well, then", Buffy suggested, leaning on her knee, her hand raised up to rest her chin. "How about we start at the beginning?"

"Not really sure when this all began, honestly", Angel shrugged.

"Then how about after my last visit here?", Buffy suggested. "You know, the Thanksgiving weekend about four years ago?"

Angel felt his stomach flip-flop at the memory. What Buffy probably remembered was coming to LA, yelling at Angel for his interference with the Native American demons that nearly killed the Scoobies on Thanksgiving, the Morah demon attacking them both, with Angel killing it with a single blow to the head, a flashy light show from the Morah's demise, and then her leaving after about 5 minutes. What she wouldn't remember was how they went hunting for it together in the sewers of LA, of Angel's blood mixing with the demon's during the fight, and killing it, but in the process, becoming fully and completely human.

Or how wondrous her eyes looked at him before she and Angel shared a passionate kiss in broad daylight on the Santa Monica Pier, something out of her wildest fantasies, or their all-day, all-night passionate love sessions, finally getting back together after 3 months apart. Or how they ended up battling the Morah a second time after it regenerated itself, Angel barely able to stand while Buffy fought it alone. Or the demon's ominous words about the End of Days, and its deadly prophecy : "Together you were powerful, alone you are dead." Or how Angel convinced the Oracles to swallow back the day so he could protect Buffy and prevent her death when the End of Days would arise. Or their grieving, passionate, and tearful goodbye as the final seconds of their day, of their happiness, of their one chance to finally be together ticked away to a close.

With a heavy sigh, he proceeded to unravel the story of the ongoing saga of Angel Investigations from there. He started with Doyle's noble sacrifice of himself, and his passing of the visions to Cordelia. He then got into Wesley's joining the team in the wake of Doyle's death, and later, the recruitment of Gunn from the streets of L.A, just after losing his sister to vampires. He told her how the team met Lorne, a wisecracking, but gentle empathic demon who ran the now-demised demon kareoke club _Caritas_. He then told her of Darla's first return from the grave, of Wolfram & Hart's sinister plans to corrupt him, of enduring the Trials to earn a dying Darla's last chance at a normal life, a gesture that ultimately proved futile. Her heart hurt for him as he recalled painfully how Wolfram & Hart rubbed his failures in his face as they forced him to watch as a helpless Darla was...violated (there was no other word for it) by a returning Drusilla...and the reign of terror the insane vampire and newly Sired Darla had unleashed. Of the rift he caused within his team when he fired his closest friends, and his descent into darkness as he went on a one-man mission to wipe out his Sire, his lunatic Childe and the evil law firm once and for all. She shook her head in sympathy as his eyes lowered recalling Holland Manners' showing him the secret of what made Wolfram & Hart thrive: humanity's own penchant for evil.

"It was…demoralizing", he sighed. "Just…for him to show that what I was fighting for, nothing I did, nothing I could do, meant anything. That what I was fighting for, goodness, decency, was something that didn't exist. That I couldn't win, because there was nothing worth winning."

"No", Buffy shook her head firmly. "That's not true. Angel, he was evil. He tried to corrupt you with lies. There are things worth fighting for, you know that. You told me that long ago, remember?" He lifted his head and couldn't help but to smile a little at the little glitter of a memory in Buffy's eyes. "You once told me, that we don't fight just to win completely, because we can't. We fight because there are things worth fighting for. Our friends, our family…children." She worked a bit to knock the wistfulness out of her voice. After their high school graveyard talk all those years ago, she never gave any thought to Angel having children. Or at least, not with her, anyway. But still, it did hurt that she knew he had a son, a joy fate decreed that she could never share with him.

"I know that now", he assured her, resisting the impulse to reach out and take her hand in his.

He shamefully lowered his head and went on to his admission of defeat, taking shape in his very harsh, physical one-night stand with Darla. Something that _he_ initiated. He could see Buffy's jaw muscles clench hard, her eyes flashing with anger, pain, hurt, betrayal and revulsion, perhaps at Darla, perhaps at him, perhaps both.

He immediately felt the self-loathing creeping into him, angry, no, enraged at himself for putting his beloved through this, for letting her see him falter so badly. She looked away for a moment, resisting the impulses to stand up and storm out of the room, or to backhand Angel across the room and back again for his act of betrayal, of blind stupidity, or to let her tears fall like rain and cry like the girl she was when he first met her. Instead, she simply took deep cleansing breaths , a technique Giles taught her, and nodded.

"Go on", she managed in a small, strained voice.

Angel hesitated. "W-we don't have to if-"

"No", she bit out, before calming herself. "I…need to know the rest of what's happened to you. To stop all of this."

He warily continued, with how he kicked Darla out of his home just after, something that he noticed brought a faint glimmer of delight to Buffy's eyes. He told her of how he worked to mend the bridges and reconcile with his teammates, the hardest of whom was Cordelia, who only forgave Angel after buying her what amounted to over $2,000 in expensive clothes, which was painstakingly hard to find given Cordy's exquisite tastes.

He continued with their visit to Pylea, a word she recognized Lorne using from before, to rescue Cordelia, who went from slave to Queen in just one day, and how the world's different physical laws allowed him to bask in the warmth of two suns and see his reflection in the mirror. Despite her current emotions, Buffy couldn't help but to smile a little bit at the thought of seeing Angel in the sunlight. She had always wanted him to be able to feel those little human things she always took for granted, at least until she met him.

He told her then of his rescue of Fred, nearly insane after five years as a slave in a demon world, and their adoption of her into their family. She chuckled as he recalled the first words she said to him after saving her from an execution: "Handsome man. Saves me from the monsters." Oh, but how many times Buffy had known herself to have 'handsome man' save her on many an occasion. Without Angel, she never would've made it past her first year in Sunnydale. That much she (grudgingly?) accepted.

He paused for a moment, swallowing hard as he vividly recalled, to excruciating, on many levels, detail of their return to the hotel following their adventure, only to find Willow waiting for them, bearing mournful and devastating news…that Buffy was dead. She felt her own eyes start to mist as she saw the flashes of grief pass through Angel's handsome features, even at the memory of it, even as Buffy sat not a few feet from him, alive and well.

"The whole time I was away during that summer", he said, his voice heavy with long-forgotten grief. "I just…I just kept thinking the 'what if's…What if I'd been there? What if I could've stopped it, what if I could've helped her? Or at least…what if I could've died for you…or _with_ you?"

"_No_!", she said suddenly, fear freezing her heart for a moment, before calming down. "No…Angel, that's exactly why…why do you think I never called you to tell you about what was happening?"

Angel's head shot up and suddenly his eyes became hard. "_Why_ didn't you call me?", he said, frowning. "Buffy, I…I thought you knew that you could always call me if you really needed help. You died and you…you didn't call me", he finished softly.

"That was something I had to do alone, Angel", she said simply.

"What? To _die_ alone?", Angel shook his head incredulously.

"No", she said. "Glory was…she was threatening Dawn. She was going to kill Dawn. _My_ sister. _My_ family. I…I had to do this alone. It was a family affair."

"Which automatically excludes me", he finished softly, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

Buffy sighed, her patience teetering at its limits. "Not with the excluding", she insisted. "There's just some things I have to do sometimes that don't involve having my guardian angel…or at least, his tall, dark and handsome demony replicate. " He let a small chuckle loose at her words. So similar to what she had called him years ago, her '200 year-old, cradle-robbing, creature-of-the-night boyfriend'.

"Tell you what", she told him. "I'll get to that part later…just tell me what's happened to you first."

He continued with his return in the fall, of how shortly after, he received Willow's miraculous phone call that Buffy was alive, after their meeting together, of which both remembered the passionate, angst-filled and fiery moments of, and then how Darla had reappeared in the hotel…carrying his child. What was more shocking for her to hear was how Darla had human feelings, maternal instincts for the child that would be Connor. But none of that compared to the wide-eyed gaze she fixed on him when he revealed of how Darla, to save her son, _their_ son, would make the ultimate sacrifice: her life for Connor's.

"She really did…does love him", Angel said. "I was shocked, too. 150 years with her, I knew her like the back of my hand. And not once did she ever care or love anything or anyone…not like she did Connor."

"She actually…_staked_ herself?", Buffy asked, still in disbelief.

Angel nodded. "It was either her or Connor. When it came down to it, there was only one choice for her to make. She did what any good mother would do…she protected her child."

After the shock wore off, Buffy actually started to reconsider her opinion on Darla…slightly. She still couldn't forget the whole 'tried-to-kill-me-my-mother-friends-and-Angel' bit, but still, to hear that Darla, of all creatures, would make the ultimate sacrifice for someone other than herself, for a child, _Angel's_ child…well, that was something to consider. Perhaps there was more to this whole 'human Darla' thing after all.

Then he threw her for a loop again when he mentioned how Cordelia, in order to bear the pain of the visions, and to keep fighting alongside Angel, allowed herself to turn into a half-demon. She could scarcely believe that Cordelia _Chase_, Cordy, Queen C, the Queen of Mean herself, would have willingly sacrificed a part of her humanity to help fight 'the good fight'. Clearly, her old high-school nemesis had undergone a major change since arriving in L.A, getting closer to Angel in the process. She felt oddly jealous of her for that.

He continued with the Fang Gang's attempts to raise infant Connor ( she smiled to herself picturing Angel playing the doting father, changing diapers, reading bedtime stories, fussing over a little baby boy), and of a demented Holtz's improbable return from beyond, thanks to the demon Sahjahn. She had heard about Holtz from around the demon bars in Sunnydale, rumors about a rogue, legendary vampire hunter out to destroy Angelus, but she was so overwhelmed dealing with her own emotional torment of returning from heaven that she let Angel handle it by himself. It was a decision that she had regretted now and again, especially after she heard the end result of that story: a well-meaning Wesley's stunning act of betrayal, which led to Holtz's vanishing into Quor'toth with Angel's kidnapped son in arms. She was horrified when Angel told her of how he, in a fit of grief and rage, nearly smothered a dying Wesley in the hospital with his own pillow to extract punishment.

He went on to tell her of Connor's astonishing return to Earth, as a supernaturally strong, yet emotionally troubled teenager, raised with a hatred for his true father. She felt her shock and anger rise when he revealed how Connor, tricked into believing Angel had killed Holtz, had played on his emotions as a father to lull him into a trap, an ocean prison where he spent 3 months going mad from hunger and horrifying visions. He went on to tell her of his return, thanks to Wesley and Lorne's help, and how he subsequently kicked Connor out of his home. He told her of Fred and Gunn's relationship, and how that dissolved thanks to Wesley's romantic attentions and the murder of Professor Seidel, whom Fred blamed, rightfully, for her exile into Pylea; how Wesley led his own demon-hunting operation in the wake of his exile from the team, and his twisted involvement with Wolfram & Hart's Lilah Morgan (Angel had once mentioned her to Buffy) and Lorne's return to and from Las Vegas.

She was stunned when Angel told her that Cordelia had been made a Higher Being, something she found very suspicious and highly unlikely. Granted, while Cordy's sacrifice was noble, there was no way in hell that could merit _nearly_ enough for that kind of reward. Hell, Buffy herself had saved the world more times than she could count, dying _twice_ in the process, and _she_ wasn't any Higher Being, so how could this be made so easy for Cordy?

He finally revealed that this was ultimately the grand design of an unknown evil power, whom had manipulated Cordelia and possessed her in the Higher Planes, and upon her return to Earth, right under the team's noses, unleashed total havoc on L.A., beginning with the rise of the Beast, the devastating Rain of Fire, the attack on Wolfram & Hart, the blocking out of the sun, the city's horrifying conversion from buzzing metropolis into demon-run warzone, and, when the AI team was desperate for answers...the return of Angelus.

She sat frozen, her green eyes wide in shock. It took her brain a full 15 seconds to comprehend what Angel had said. She shot up quickly from her seat, pacing back and forth restlessly.

Now Angel worried. He knew that when she began pacing, she was in full anger mode. Battle mode.

"Buffy...", he began.

"I…you…I can't _believe_ that you let them _do_ that!", she exclaimed. "Angel, _how_ could you let them bring _him_ back into the world? After everything he's done, everyone he's killed, you actually _let_ your closest friends bring back your psycho evil twin?"

"Believe me, I didn't want him back anymore than you did", he said. "It was actually Wesley's idea, really."

"Figures", she muttered. "Mr 'I've-had-Field-training' jumps on the first stupid idea off of Page One of the 'Apocalypse-for-Dummies' Handbook and you just go along with it?"

"Like I said, I never wanted him back in the first place", he sighed, growing weary of her argument. He knew she, more than anyone, was well within her rights not to want Angelus back, but L.A. was _his_ city, therefore _his_ responsibility. "But you didn't see what we were seeing, Buffy. People were dying, the Beast was unstoppable, the city was in ruins, every single vampire, demon, and creepy-crawly crawled out from every corner of hell and began overrunning this city with death, torment and destruction, and we didn't have a clue of where to look for answers...We didn't have a choice."

"Hel-loo? I'm the _Slayer_?", Buffy said incredulously. "Chosen One? Little Miss Save-the-World? Scourge of the demon underworld? Ring any bells? Why didn't you call me? Why would you have possibly thought that the better option was letting loose Sir-Stalks-Maims-and-Kills-A-Lot into, hel-lo, _an_ **_apocalypse?_**"

"Probably because putting my ex-girlfriend smackdab in the warpath of an indestructible evil juggernaut wasn't exactly ranking high on my 'To-Do' list ", he said, his tone frank.

"You still should've called", Buffy said tautly. "Maybe we could've used Willow, or Giles or…_anything_ but let that snake out of his can!"

"A Slayer wouldn't have made much difference", he said. He braced himself. "The others tried that."

It took Buffy a few moments before she realized what he was talking about. "Faith."

Angel nodded. He told her of how Angelus escaped his prison, how Wesley had contacted Faith, helped her break out of prison to help fight the Beast. How the sheer force and strength of the monster nearly murdered her sister Slayer until Angelus, in true-to-form fashion, stabbed the Beast from behind with a knife forged of the monster's own bones, killing it and bringing back the sun. He proceeded to tell her of how an injured Faith's fight-to-the-death with Angelus left her near death, and how Willow was called in from Sunnydale to help restore Angel's lost soul. She was miffed at her best friend for keeping such a secret from her, especially anything that concerned Angel.

Then she let out a bitter chuckle as she realized Willow's earlier deception. '_Sovereignty'_, she thought. _Good one, Willow_..._I'm such an idiot_.

He went on to tell of Faith's mental mind walk with Angelus through Angel's mind, and how they finally restored his soul, allowing Buffy to breath a silent sigh of relief. He then revealed Cordy's mysterious pregnancy, and their discovery of her manipulation of Connor and everyone else, and what Skip had partially told them when Connor, a mysterious girl and a white-clad, _human_ Darla dropped into the hotel, bearing news of the End of Days drawing closer…and 'Cordelia's connection to the First Evil. Which led to their phone call to Sunnydale and the subsequent crash landing arrival of the Scoobies.

When he finished, she felt her legs begin to give way and she quickly sat back in her chair, feeling somewhat overwhelmed at hearing Angel's whole story from beginning to end. Wow, and she thought that she had problems...although she did. _Major_ ones. And not just the impending apocalypse. But she doubted if she'd have had it any easier if she switched shoes with Angel.

"Wow", she said simply.

"Yeah", he replied.

"That's…a lot", she said, frowning.

"Feels that way, sometimes." He paused. "A lot of the time, actually."

Then, unconsciously, she reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. It never ceased to amaze him how that touch, that gesture would affect him, how his tense muscles would relax, how his tension would immediately dissipate, how his head would suddenly feel 10 pounds lighter. It was a true connection. Soulmate to soulmate.

"It's okay", she smiled simply. "I know now it's been hard for you, but…I'm here now. And if I can help you out in any way, either with the fighting, well, obviously the fighting", she chuckled. "But…if you ever want to talk to someone about this-"

"I'll let you know", he nodded, his famous lopsided grin flashing. Buffy could feel her stomach flip-flop at the sight, God, how she had missed his smile, his eyes, his…everything, really.

"Now", he said, slowly, and, to both of them, regretfully, letting go of her hand. "I believe you owe me a life story."

She looked down for a second, a corner of her mouth slightly turned up. "And boy, is it ever a tale."

Angel chuckled. "Believe me, Buffy, after all of this, I don't think anything could surprise me."

Famous last words…

As if on cue, a knocking on the door was heard. A little annoyed that someone would intrude on their private discussion, Buffy sighed as Angel stood up to open the door…

…Which revealed a bruised, slightly hunched Lorne, clutching his jaw, a small trickle of blood coming down the left side of his mouth.

"Lorne? What happened to you?", Angel asked, stunned.

"Your super-powered tyke and his Slayer junior friends, is what", he muttered, wincing painfully as he said it.

At those words, Buffy's inner alarm went off. "Dawn?"

" 'Fraid so, kitten", he said as Angel helped him over to a chair.

"Tell us what happened", Angel said.

"Well, I was coming up the stairs, just finished showing some of the girls around their rooms", Lorne began. "I mean, I would've come up sooner, but when they found out I could sing, they asked me to do a few requests. And for some strange reason, a lot of them took to either Celine Dion or Pink. Not that I mind Celine's numbers, but-"

"Lorne!", both warriors exclaimed.

"Sorry, I digress", Lorne shrugged. "Anyway, I ran into Connor, your kid sis", he pointed at Buffy, "and their friends barreling down the stairs. They were going somewhere in a hurry, with a bag load of ,my guess, weapons."

"Well, maybe they went to train", Buffy suggested, although that was her hopeful side talking, not her rational, legal guardian side, which was screaming at her that Dawn was about to do something incredibly stupid.

"That was my guess, too, Cherry Plum", Lorne sighed. "But just as soon as I ask them where they were headed to, WHAM! Your kid shoots out a wicked left hook, I'm doing a Mary Lou Rhetton tumble down the stairwell and I see them head off past me before I could stop them."

"You…you're not saying that-" Buffy started.

"Sorry, guys", Lorne said. "Your kids are gone."

Buffy and Angel exchanged worried, parental glances with each other. Neither Dawn or Connor had been renowned for their rational planning, or any kind of planning in general.

Together, this was a recipe for disaster.

* * *

To Be Continued…


	12. Part 10 Die First, Ask Questions Later

A/N: Hey, all! Sorry 'bout the long delay, but things have been getting chaotic in my life, and I'm working full time at two jobs now (growing up's a bitch, ain't it :)) But my commitment to this story is unwavering and steadfast. Mark my words, you will see an ending. And this story's only begun to unravel. Special shout-out's to: Allan Pitt, The Great One, lelegurl9, Edgechick816, JessicaC, Shahid (I have a few differing opinions about your review, but still, thanks for your feedback), CF, tariq, ShawThang (love your writing), MandyMouse, trina-k, and Angelfirenze, Trixie-GO-Boom, and Imzadi for your reviews.

You Guys Rock!

Now that Angel and the Buffy-verse are basically over (sniff…BIG sob) I guess it falls to us to keep the story of Joss's blonde Slayer and the vampire(s)-with-soul alive. BTW, I still haven't seen the finale of Angel yet, so NOBODY spoil it for me, okay? I don't wanna know until I give you guys the all-clear that I've watched it, alright? Thanks, love you guys :)

The next few chapters will be updated sporadically during this summer, so keep your eyes peeled. In the meantime, on to the story!

Without further ado, I present to you, the next chapter of….

* * *

**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 10 - Die First, Ask Questions Later**

* * *

**Sewers - Los Angeles, CA**

**Now**

* * *

"This way," Connor instructed the group as they maneuvered down a sewer tunnel, one of the many they'd passed through in the last half-hour since their hit-and-run escape from the hotel.

"Did you really have to hit Lorne that hard?" Dawn scolded him. "You realize the first thing he'll do, once he wakes up, is tell your dad and my sister what happened. My more-powerful-than-a-locomotive _Slayer_ sister."

"I…kind of panicked," Connor flushed. "Seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"Hit first and ask questions later," Dawn smirked as she stepped over a puddle of rather gross-looking fluid at her feet. "You really are just like Angel…and maybe a little of Spike."

"That vampire with the English accent?" Connor turned up his nose in disgust. "I think I almost prefer you comparing me to my father than to that trash."

"Suit yourself, Junior," Dawn rolled her eyes at him. He turned to scowl at her, but one look at her impish grin staring back at him, and Connor's intimidating glare faltered, and finally melted into an almost shy smile.

"Are you guys sure this is a good idea?" Molly asked as she crept along behind them, Vi bringing up the rear.

"Chill, Molly," Dawn sighed. "We've got a plan…sort of…so, what's with the butterflies in your stomach?"

"We're just a few moderately trained young people about to take on possibly, from what you've told us, the most dangerous person walking the face of the Earth right now. You'll have to excuse me if I get a li'l skittish," Molly replied, a little sarcasm creeping into her voice.

"No lie," Vi spoke up, looking up cautiously at her surroundings. "Plus, do we even know where we're going? All I keep seeing is smelly sewer after smelly sewer."

"This is the way," Connor insisted as the group crept closely along the walls of the tunnel. "I scanned the tunnel routes myself. I pretty much know how to get anywhere in this city from here."

Molly spotted an enormous rat, which looked like it had gnawed on steroids, waddling slowly along the other side of the tunnel. "You live a charmed life, huh?" she muttered, revolted.

"You have no idea," Connor said, a note of distaste and regret in his voice. He didn't like knowing all the things he knew sometimes, living the life he was living, but it was all he'd known for so long. What else could he do but live it?

The group went some time without speaking, as they continued to make their way through the labyrinth maze of sewer tunnels. The smell of the sewers was enough to make them nauseous, and the only shafts of light came from the occasional water drain up in the streets, but they pressed on.

The four teens had a mission to accomplish. Granted, it was a self-appointed, risky mission, but it was theirs nonetheless. And the longer they walked, the more determined they became to reach their destination.

"So, what exactly is the plan again?" Vi asked.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "How many times have we been over this? Connor and I will provide the distraction, and we wait for Cordy to drop her guard. Once she does, we'll have the opportunity to knock her out and grab her. If anything goes wrong, that's where you guys come in. Vi, you come in from behind. Molly, I'm counting on your skills with that crossbow in this scenario."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Molly beamed, proudly, patting her crossbow. "With all my target practice lately, I'm becoming quite the crack shot."

"No killing!" Dawn and Connor managed to simultaneously blurb out.

"Well, of course not," Molly shrank a little, a bit hurt that they were skeptical of her skills as a bowman…er, bowperson. "I can aim just as well for a kneecap or a shoulder blade as I could a direct hit to the heart or the head."

Connor fought off the urge to cringe at the thought of further injury to Cordelia…even if she was currently possessed and evil.

"Oh, well, that's good." Dawn had a moment to consider her friend's words. "And also…a little disturbing."

"Glad I'm not the only one that thinks so," Connor smirked.

Dawn giggled a bit at Connor's unwitting joke. At the sound of her lovely voice lighting up with a hint of laughter, it drew the boy's eyes to hers, two twin sets of blue eyes meeting their respective gazes.

Dawn had to avert her gaze, so that she could keep Connor from seeing the lovely pink tinge coming to her cheeks, just as Connor had to feign checking on his shirt's cuff, suddenly finding it fascinating, than to let Dawn watch as he, the Destroyer, started to blush.

"So, um…h-how much longer do you think we should be from the factory you said 'Cordy' is hiding at?" Dawn abruptly switched gears.

"Not much longer," Connor said, scouting up ahead with his hawk-like vision. "We should be there soon, no problem."

"I wouldn't count on that, pretty boy," a menacing growl came from behind the group.

The teens whirled around to find a small contingent of vampires, sporting ripped leather jackets and heavy chains dragging from their hands.

Molly held up her crossbow defensively, her eyes widening in surprise, before they narrowed into slits, steeling herself as best she could to take aim at the demons. Vi reached for her stake, her hands trembling fiercely as she struggled for a good grip with it. And Dawn, feeling a little naked without a weapon, suddenly began to wonder if this little underground odyssey was such a good idea, after all.

Connor, however, was not intimidated. In fact, his thin, handsome face bared a calm yet feral smile, even as he instinctively stepped up, brushing Dawn safely behind him, placing himself as the lone barrier between the girls and the pack of murderous demons. Ever the alpha male.

Ever the warrior.

Connor's voice was like smooth, cold steel. "Hello, Cage. Been a while."

He addressed the head vamp, a bald-shaven, stubbly, thickset soulless demon, bearing brass knuckles on each hand, ripped jeans, leather biker vest underneath a bloodstained white undershirt. Every bit the stereotypical biker. Well, except for the bloodstain in place of the beer stain.

"Well, well, well," the vampire sneered. "Lookie here, boys. If it isn't the SuperPunk himself. I've been just _dyin'_ to see you again."

"Thought you were already dead. Though that's something I can help you with," Connor glared, but that predatory smile never left his face.

Dawn wasn't sure whether she felt comforted by it, or just plain creeped out. But given the choice between him and the scary vamp chain gang, she was with Connor all the way.

"And still with that smart mouth of yours," Cage flashed a wicked grin, showing off his stained yellow and slightly red-pinkish teeth. No need for the girls to wonder where a vampire would get the reddish color from. "Maybe I'll keep it as a prize on my boots after I rip out your throat."

"Connor, you know this guy?" Dawn whispered up to him.

"We've had our run-ins," Connor briefly explained, but keeping his eyes on Cage the whole time. "I first met him back when the Beast blocked out the sun. I killed most of his crew, but he got away. Slimy bastard kept turning up with new gang members each time I saw him, and every time, he ends up leaving as a one-man gang."

"You've gotten lucky," Cage scoffed.

"Five times in a row?" Connor cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Beginner's luck," Cage growled. "I would've had southern LA all wrapped up by now, but your pissant daddy - the big, bad Angelus - had to go and drop the Big Stone and bring back that nasty sun. The undead community's just a little pissed about that."

"Oh, yeah, I'm _sure_ Angel and his gang are peeing in their pants," Dawn snarked, surprising herself, and her friends even more so. "I mean, given that what they do for a living is hunt and kill demons and vampires, I'm sure they're just _petrified_ at the thought of a couple of sorry demon imitation Hell's Angels being annoyed with them."

The vampire cocked his head to look at Dawn, incredulously, before his demonic face began to leer at her, creeping Dawn out to the max.

"Hey, Junior, who's the jail bait you got there?" Cage taunted. "Not that I mind you bringing along a couple of extra rounds for me and my boys, in all senses of the word…" The rest of the demons began to laugh darkly.

Dawn, Molly and Vi collectively shuddered. The innuendo was not lost on them.

Connor's dark smile began to twist into a cold, hard battle glower. "Your dust will be blowing in the wind before you touch any of them."

"Is that right?" Cage snarled. "Do you really think you can beat us down here? Daddy and his playmates aren't here to save you this time, _freak_."

"They weren't there the _last_ couple of times I whipped your asses, _either_," Connor retorted, an evil gleam in his eyes as he took a small step forward towards his opponent.

"Yeah, but you were by yourself that time," Cage reminded him, turning a hungry gaze behind Connor towards the two nervous Potentials and Dawn. "Didn't have to worry about protecting a bunch of scared little girls."

A light bulb went up in Dawn's brain at his words.

"_You're_ the one that should be worrying, Platelet Breath," Dawn puffed up, mustering her bravest stare.

"Oh, is _that_ so?" Cage asked patronizingly.

"_Yeah_, that's so," Dawn evenly shot back, summoning bravado she had no idea she had. "Or maybe you haven't heard the term…" _Here goes nothing…_ "Vampire _Slayer_?"

Cage's grin fell off his face at hearing those words.

Connor's eyes turned to her, the boy staring at Dawn in disbelief.

Murmurs of "Slayer?" "Another one?" and "No way!" ran like wildfire though the stunned and suddenly very wary vampire gang.

Molly and Vi were staring at Dawn in shock. Molly said to Dawn in a low hiss, "What the _bloody_ _hell_ are you _doing?_"

"Yeah. I'd like to know that myself," Connor cut in, glaring hard at Dawn. Just what was this girl thinking? If she was even thinking at all!

"Saving our asses, maybe, so shut up and get ready," Dawn whispered through clenched teeth, hoping that the vampires didn't hear them.

Cage composed himself and scoffed. "Nice try, sweetheart. But I've seen the Slayer during the sun-go-bye period here. She's taller, wears a ton of leather and has black hair. You don't even come close to that description. You're no Slayer. Just a tasty bite-sized appetizer waiting to happen."

_Time to play my trump card_, Dawn thought.

"You saw Faith, the _other_ Vampire Slayer," Dawn smiled knowingly, drawing herself up to her full height, which was about an inch taller than her sister. "The one that came _after_ me."

Cage raised an eyebrow, confused. "_After_ you?"

Vi got the idea suddenly of what Dawn was about to do. And she was hoping to God that she was wrong. But, then again, given Dawn's increasingly zany plans, she knew that the odds were such that she wasn't wrong, that the Key was about to do something real stupid.

"That's right," Dawn mustered up a cocky grin. "Allow me to introduce myself. Maybe you've heard of me." She took in a deep breath, her hands rested on her hips, her best superheroine pose. _Please let this work, please let this work…_

"I'm Buffy Summers. _The_ Vampire Slayer."

* * *

**Back at the Hyperion Hotel**

* * *

"I don't care if you're the construction foreman of the freakin' millennium, you're _not_ getting this room!"

Anya stood unwavering, her hands placed on either one of both perfectly sculpted hips. Her pixie-ish features were hardened into a merciless scowl, as she laid down the law to her former fiancé.

Xander, not one to be intimidated easily - not by his ex, anyway - glared back. "I put my bags in there first, Ahn! First come, first served. You oughta know that, what with being in the retail business for two years and change."

"Wanna know what else I learned about during my time in the Magic Box?" Anya retorted as she stormed back into the room, only to emerge not five seconds later, Xander's luggage in hand. "Right to refusal!" she snapped, as she disdainfully threw down his luggage at his feet.

All the while, Fred and Gunn stood by, watching the entire display between the ex-almost-newlyweds; and, as anyone would seeing the dynamic between the two, they watched amazed.

"Well, that's just great, isn't it?" Xander snapped. "You think you can just do whatever you want? Queen Anya just snaps her fingers and 'hey presto!', we all bow down to her infallible will! After all, who are we lowly non-ex-vengeance-demon types to question her?"

"Listen, Harris," she began warningly. "If you think -"

"There's another room just like it!" Fred blurted out.

All three heads swiveled to the petite Texan, making her blush somewhat at all the attention. She wasn't accustomed to having so much attention - or any attention, really - thrown her way.

"What other room?" Xander asked.

"Yeah, what other room?" Gunn frowned.

Fred rolled her eyes as she glanced at her ex-boyfriend. "This is a hotel, Charles. Or it's s'pposed to be, anyway. What about the room upstairs, directly above us?"

"The one with the balcony view?" Gunn asked.

Xander considered it. "How good of a view is -"

"There's a view?" Anya asked abruptly, her hazel eyes wide.

"Well, sure there is, yeah," Fred nodded. "You should see it during the sunrise, the way the sunlight bounces off the city skyline is just…"

"Wonderful!" Anya brightened, picking up her valises. "I'll take it. And you can show me where it is, so I can sleep there first. Before Xander." She turned to her ex-fiancé with a triumphant smile.

Xander thrust his hands into his pockets, attempting to keep himself civil. "You know, Anya, this whole 'I-get-it-before-you-do' phase might be interpreted by someone as kind of sad, if not outright pathetic." Key word, attempting.

Anya smirked. "Well, gee, now, that hurts real bad, Xander." She feigned a sigh. "I guess I'll just go up to my giant, spacious balcony room and cry, cry and cry away, and watch as the tears sparkle…as I'm greeted by a majestic sunrise, with a balcony to tan and eat a wonderful breakfast to bask in the glow of the city."

She patted him with mock affection on the arm. "Oh, but don't worry, I'm sure you'll see them. That is, if you can stick your head out of the small, _cramped_ little windows in the room, or squeeze it past the air conditioner lodged in the biggest window in the room. You shouldn't miss it."

She turned back to Fred. "My room, please?" she smiled with abundant enthusiasm.

Fred managed to suppress her laughter and nodded, showing her up the stairs.

Xander gritted his teeth, calling back resentfully, "Well…fine! Go, and….enjoy your stupid room! Who needs a balcony view, _anyway_? All that…fresh air, and….sunbathing, and…view?"

Gunn smirked. "Uh, yeah…'cause then she might get a really nice tan. Who wants _that_?"

Xander sighed, deflating. "Have I mentioned how much my life completely sucks, lately?"

Gunn patted the other young man sympathetically on the shoulder. "Welcome to the club, bro."

"I hate this club," Xander muttered. "Been a member of it ever since I was born. I don't see any fringe benefits with _my_ membership yet."

"All the misery and donuts you can possibly stomach?" Gunn offered, grinning.

His offbeat joke drew a small chuckle from Xander. Finally, someone with a sense of humor around here!

"Sorry, didn't mean to sound off with the whining," Xander smiled faintly. "God knows I didn't need to add my own flaming hoop to the circus of angst and drama around here. Gunn, right?" he asked as he extended his hand.

"One and only," Gunn nodded, shaking Xander's hand.

"That's a mighty cool name. Strikes fear in the hearts of bad guys," Xander said, approvingly, before wistfully adding, "The only thing my name would ever evoke is the reminder that the shingles need repair."

"I dunno 'bout that," Gunn said thoughtfully. "Xander's a…different name. Maybe if you just kept the 'X' and dropped the 'ander'?"

"Right," Xander snorted, before adding dramatically, "Fear me, evil demons! For I am 'X'! Mister X. Scourge of the darkness, seedy underbelly of the underworld!" Then he thought about it.

Really thought about it. "Well, actually, now that you mention it…"

Gunn laughed. He was starting to like this guy. "Come on, Scourge Boy, let me show you 'round the joint."

After grabbing his bags and entering the room, Xander looked appreciatively at his surroundings as he basked in the room's décor. _Wow,_ he thought, _no wonder why Ahn was so mad-on for this room. This place is bitchin'!_

"You know what the sad part of all this is?" Xander mused as he ran his hand appreciatively across the shiny polished wood of a hand-built coffee table, set aside a giant, cushy cedar brown leather chair. "This whole room is probably worth more than the cost of my entire apartment."

"Try seeing this place when you've been living on the streets for a few years," Gunn smiled nostalgically, thinking back to the first time he actually came to settle down in Angel's hotel.

Xander whipped his head around at Gunn after hearing that last comment. "Whoa, hang on…you were homeless?"

"Not exactly homeless in the traditional case," Charles said. "Only in the not having a real house, crashing with your crew in an abandoned warehouse basement sense…so, yeah, I guess you could say that."

Xander frowned, confused. "And I'll take a side order of 'huh?' with that 'what?', please?"

"I used to run my own demon hunting operation back in the day," Gunn explained, and Xander nodded, remembering that little tidbit from earlier on. "We were more in the wagin' war stage than looking at 'Good Housekeeping'. We never had homes, only a base for backup and support to keep fightin' the vamps in LA. After my folks died, I guess I never cared much for the whole white-picket-fence deal, you know?"

_Wow, and I thought I had it rough when I had to sleep in the basement while paying rent, _Xander thought sympathetically.

"Yeah. Harsh," he managed to say.

Gunn waved it away. "Ah, no big deal, I got over it. Besides, got a whole room up here to myself now."

"Yeah, well," Xander said as took another appreciative look around the room. "Let it never be said that Dead Boy never treated his pals well."

"Mmm, true," Gunn chuckled, idly picking up a framed picture on the dresser. "Cordy really loved coming in here a lot."

Xander looked up for a moment, a little unsure why those words spoken so casually made his gut wrench a little. "Oh," he said, working to make it sound as casual as possible. "She did, huh?"

"All the time," Gunn said as he began to lean on the cabinet behind him. "It got to the point where we just told her, 'Girl, either you move on in here or' -"

His sentence was cut off, when a box suddenly fell on him from the top of the cabinet.

"Ow! Damn, what the…" Gunn complained, rubbing his head.

The box had spilled most of its contents out onto the carpeted floor. Gunn grumbled as he bent down to pick up the items, "Man, I told Cordy once I told her a thousand times, not to leave her stuff lyin' 'round the damn room. But does she listen?"

"As I recall, listening isn't historically one of Cordelia's strong points," Xander smiled knowingly as he crouched down to lend a hand. Most of it was work-related stuff; invoices, client transaction numbers, and the typical office minutia that came with running a business.

Had this been four years ago, Xander would have burst out laughing at the thought of Cordelia Chase doing office work for anyone. Even when they were dating, he had always expected her to go somewhere important or exotic after Graduation, leaving Sunnydale behind in her dust faster than Buffy could stake a fledgling vamp.

Working for Buffy's ex-boyfriend as a secretary in an LA detective agency had never even made the radar. Funny how life works out, sometimes.

Xander paused when he took notice of something out of the past that caught his eye. Lying face up, amidst the debris of papers and folders, was a bright red book, engraved in gold letters. 'Sunnydale Class of 1999', the book read. It was her high school yearbook.

Harris could scarcely believe that Cordy had held onto it. He had assumed that she would have wanted to purge any proof or memory that she'd ever attended Hellmouth High, given her experiences there - including several obsessed high school enemies and crushes trying to kill her, the constant mayhem that included being a member of the Scooby Gang, and, lest we forget, the painful and ill-fated breakup between himself and her.

And yet, there it was. Plain as day, the book of her high school memories was right there, not a few inches from him. Before he could stop himself, Xander's hands gravitated towards the book, lifting it up from the clutter.

"Oh, hey, I haven't seen that in a while," Gunn mused, as he caught sight of the book in Xander's hands.

"Yeah, uh…" Xander was struggling with his words for a moment. "I just…I figured she would've gotten rid of this by now. High school wasn't exactly a paragon of fun for Cordy."

"She used to mention that place a lot…at first," Gunn said, absently shoving more documents into the box. "Before…all of this started to happen. Sometimes, I'd walk in here to call her down for a meeting we'd be having, and I'd catch her laughing or crying or something touchy-feely over some of the pictures in there."

As he spoke, Xander cracked open the book. As expected, there was a cramming of signatures up to infinity there. He was sure that everyone who'd been anyone back in Sunnydale would have signed the yearbook of Queen C, their 'It Girl'. He wasn't disappointed.

Pretty much the entire football team, all of the Dingoes, the cheerleaders and the long list of admirers and hangers-on (see the 'Cordettes') had all but filled it up to the brim. Xander grimaced as he passed over Harmony's signature and her lame yearbook message, when a few photos came sliding down the page. He caught them, and the images burned into the paper blasted him right back to his past.

In those pictures he and Cordelia were sitting, side-by-side, practically in each other's laps, basking in the warm glow of a bright summer day, behind them the carnival-like festivities of the Sunnydale Pier, on 'Town Appreciation Day', back in their senior year of high school.

The perfect picture of young love...before it had all gone so horribly wrong.

Yet another one, this time with a giddy, smiling Cordy piggy-back riding on top of a laughing Xander, her arms affectionately wrapped around his neck. He remembered that one pretty well. Harris remembered that he had made some Xander-esque comment about her weight, after she went on about how she couldn't eat the cotton candy for fear of going over her five-ounce daily limit of sweets.

Though visibly displeased, she'd quickly distracted him by pointing over to where she claimed some scantily-clad blonde was falling out of her top. As predicted, he turned around to look for some free action. Unpredictably, however, a playful Cordy took the opening and pounced right on top of him, surprising him to no end. He hadn't pegged Cordy as the playful, fun-loving type, and yet there she was, pranking him and having fun with him.

The girl had actually managed to topple him to the ground, landing right on top of him as the two erupted into a fit of laughter and a few soft kisses. But not before a smiling Oz had managed to snap the photo, a grinning Willow in the background, watching them.

Xander hadn't admitted it to anyone else yet, but it was at that moment when he officially saw her as more than just his girlfriend. She was one of them. A Scooby Gang member. At that moment, he'd felt completely blessed that she was his, and he was hers.

It had been one of the best days of his life, during high school.

But Xander honestly hadn't anticipated she would have treasured those photos. Or have shown them to anyone. Until one day, when he was trying to cajole her into celebrating the Scoobies' success in the SAT scores with a double date concerning bowling, which Cordy was firmly against, until some smooth talking from Xander had finally made her cave, no easy feat. And then something hanging in her locker door had caught his eyes…

**Flashback - Sunnydale High School, Sunnydale**

**November 24th, 1998**

"_Hey, those are from the pier," Xander noted as he looked up at the collection of photos of he, her and their friends having fun at the pier over that summer. _

_Cordelia shrugged. "Yeah, I just got them developed. Why?"_

_Xander was astonished. "There's pictures. Of __**me**__. In your __**locker**__."_

"_**So**__?" Cordelia shut the locker door, suddenly feeling a little defensive about her choice to display her boyfriend's face in her locker for all eyes to see. "I put them there because I wanted to see your face between classes, get it? So thinking about us together makes me…I don't know…HAPPY, okay? Is that such a big __**deal**__?"_

_Xander could tell that this was a bit hard for Cordy. She was trying to maintain her rational explanation, but the fluster and sincerity in her voice and the slight vulnerability flickering in her beautiful hazel eyes gave her away. It was very moving, seeing this girl, whose reputation had been lofted higher by her unflappable, breezy façade suddenly struggling for words, showing a little glimpse of her heart to him. Just him. Only him. He almost felt unworthy of such an honor, and yet, this was one of those things that she, in his relationship with her, had simply surprised him with yet again._

_Smiling gently, Xander took her soft hand into his. "It is to me. I never knew I was locker door material."_

_They stared into each other's eyes, as if they were the only two people in the world, he with understanding and warmth in his eyes, she with unbridled adoration. Things that neither one of them were accustomed to. Until now._

_Of course, she had to return to form._

"_Well, just barely. Besides…I look really cute in those pictures," Cordelia sighed, but linking her arm in his as they walked down the hallway to meet their friends…_

* * *

"Yeah, those are her favorite," Gunn said with a small chuckle as he finally finished putting away all of Cordelia's things. "If I had a nickel for every time I caught her looking at those photos, man…"

Xander kept looking at the pictures. "Yeah…I…I just…I thought that the last thing she'd have lying around are pictures of me. Well, of us. She told me she'd burned everything after we…stopped seeing each other."

Gunn looked at him, confused. "Why would she want to do that? Unless you were…" Suddenly, the black man's eyes lit up with understanding. "Holy shit. You're _him_, aren't you?"

"Him? 'Him' who?" Xander asked, a little puzzled.

Gunn snapped his fingers, trying to recollect a name on the tip of his tongue. "Harry…Harlis…Harris! Xander Harris, right?"

Now, Xander's wig radar had gone completely blinky. She had mentioned him? Gunn knew his whole name?

"Uh…I guess," he replied cautiously.

"Man!" Gunn laughed. "I can't believe this! You're the guy that had her wound up in knots in high school?"

Xander shrugged. "Well, yeah, but…" He paused, slightly smiling. "Huh. Did she say I had her wound up in knots?"

"Damn, dog!" Gunn slapped his knee. "She used to go on and on about you when she'd look in this book."

"Really?" Xander couldn't help but to grin. Cordy had talked about him? Cordelia? Still talked about _him_? About _them_?

"Yeah, there was a whole mess o' names she called you," Gunn snickered. "Let's see, there was 'Noodle Boy', 'Zeppo Boy', 'Wal-Mart Boy', 'Fish Boy', 'King-of-Monster-Love-Boy', 'Lame Boy', a whole lotta other 'boys' too."

Xander felt his jaw drop and his little balloon of hope for…something…deflate. So, even after all these years, Cordy still had that bite to go with her bark. Even though their verbal repartee, which was legend in Scooby lore, was something he had actually looked forward to - deep down, he couldn't deny that her scathing remarks were something that actually hurt.

His mistake was often underestimating her intelligence, which Cordelia had kept well-hidden under her cool, brusque façade, so often that Xander sometimes forgot himself. And because they knew each other so well, she knew exactly where the Achilles heel to his ego was, and she never hesitated to lash out whenever she was pushed or inclined.

"Well, that's Cordelia for you," Xander replied, slightly tart, slightly reflectively. "Sugar and spice and everything bile-y."

_Strangely enough, one of the things I've missed about her, _he thought.

"Yeah," Gunn said, his laughter dying down. "But you know, you really did hurt her back then, man. I could tell."

Guilt crept up Xander's insides at his words. Of all the things he had ever regretted doing in his life, one of the worst was his moment of weakness when he fell into Willow's embrace the night that Spike had kidnapped them - hurting one of the people he cared most for in this world, Cordelia, when she and Oz had risked their lives to actually come to _save_ them.

"She told me 'bout what went down between you two. How you two went out for a while, then you cheated on her with Red. Girl wasn't the same after that," Gunn said, frankly. "She trusted you. Even though she wouldn't admit it, Cordy probably still carried a little bit of a torch for you. So, yeah, she was burned real bad."

Xander sighed heavily, looking down at his shoes. What was he supposed to say to that?

"I'm not proud of what I did," he finally said aloud. "It was stupid, it was a mistake, and it was incredibly selfish. Believe me, I tried to make it up to her, but she wouldn't have it. Cordy wouldn't even _look_ at me after we broke up."

"Well, put yourself in her shoes," Gunn answered tartly. "Would you?"

Xander thought about it for a moment. "No, probably not," he relented.

"Forgiving somebody you love after they break your trust like that, that's harder than you could possibly imagine."

Xander's mind suddenly flashed with the revolting images of Anya in the throes of passion with Spike on the table within the Magic Box, their own hangout spot. He felt something die a little within him, forcing away those memories.

"Believe me," Gunn snorted bitterly. "I know."

"Yeah?" Xander's interest suddenly piqued up. "Care to share?"

Gunn's dark eyes peered back up at him. "You know that girl who just took your ex upstairs?"

Xander's eyes widened, abruptly recalling that part of the recent conversation downstairs. "Fred? Well, kudos to you, buddy. She's a real cutie."

"Yeah," Gunn sighed. "We were together for quite a few months…until recently. I mean, we were having some problems before, complicated stuff…" Charles could still hear the 'crack' of Professor Seidel's neck breaking before he'd shoved his corpse into the swirling vortex. "…but I thought we could work through them. Didn't count on Wes stepping into the picture," he ended up bitterly.

Xander was taken aback. "Wesley? _Bookworm_ Wesley? 'I-Myself-Faced-A-Vampire-Once' Wesley?" he exclaimed.

"I guess you're talkin' 'bout the old version of English," Gunn said, brushing that aside. "Giant glasses, iron-pressed shirts and whatnot?"

"Pretty much," Xander said. It was word association to him. He always associated Wesley with the stuffy, Pierce Brosnan-y looking suit from back during the old Hellmouth High days.

"That Wes couldn't have stolen a chick from a nest," Gunn said, shaking his head. "Did you get a look at the new version downstairs, though?"

Xander considered that for a moment. "Actually…now I can see your problem," he nodded. After all, Wes had finally hit puberty, so talk about steep competition.

Gunn scowled briefly for a moment. "Tell me about it. That's the thing. The whole time, I knew he was makin' eyes at Fred. I saw the way he was looking at her, I saw what he was thinking. But still…I never saw it coming."

"You mean…Wes and Fred…?"

"I walked in on 'em during a research party a few weeks back," Gunn recalled. "They had that awkward 'Uh-Oh-Hand's-In-the-Cookie-Jar' look on their faces. You know, faces flushed, that guilty look, glancing everywhere but at you? Anyway…that's when I knew Fred had started lookin' at other fish in the sea."

"Ouch," Xander winced in sympathy, he knew that look well. "How'd you deal?"

The ex-gang leader shrugged. "Wes and I threw down, I accidentally hit Fred in the process, and we broke up a few hours later."

"Huh," was all that Xander could reply. That sounded way nasty, even compared to his and Cordelia's disastrous break-up.

Xander knew the feeling that Gunn was talking about. That horrid, ripping sensation when you know that the person you love had just ripped out your heart, thrown it in the mulcher, and fertilized the lawn with it. He remembered with vivid pain how he, in a fit of jealous rage, had nearly killed Spike that night that he'd seen Anya and him having sex. The fury, the betrayal, the hurt and anguish and pain…

_And, oh dear God, _Harris suddenly thought with remorse. _That's how Cordelia felt when she saw me kissing Willow._

"You, uh…you think you've still got a shot with her?" Xander asked. Off Gunn's stare, he clarified, "Fred, I mean. Not that it's any of my business, of course; just wonderin'."

Gunn paused, thinking pensively. He hadn't actually considered that. Since their breakup, he had often thought, even dared to hope that maybe, somehow, some way, he and the beautiful physicist could finally patch things up. That Fred would tell him that she only had eyes for him now, that Wesley was only a passing phase of temporary insanity, that they would end up together under the covers making sweet love again, be together like he knew somewhere deep in his heart that they should be.

"Don't know," Gunn sighed honestly. "I don't know what's gonna happen, I don't even know if I'll be breathin' long enough to figure it out."

"Well, I'm no Dr. Phil or anything," Xander ventured. "'Cause you could tell by the way I've still got hair, but…knowing what's going down, what may go down, knowing what you just told me…isn't that all the more reason to tell her how you feel?"

"No disrespect, bro," Gunn said practically, but not mean-spiritedly. "But if you're so sure about that, isn't it about time you start applyin' that to your own life? Practice what you preach with your own ex?"

Xander wanted to say something, but he could not. Gunn was right. What could he really say? And how could he practice what he preached, when he wasn't even sure what he wanted? Assuming that Anya and he didn't get killed anytime soon...

The discussion was abruptly halted, however, when the door swung open fast to reveal Lorne's bruised face.

"Hey, guys, sorry about the raid entrance," the Host said rapidly. "But we've got trouble."

* * *

There was an audible gasp, or as much as vampires could gasp without breath.

Molly's eyes looked like they were about to explode out of their sockets, Vi's mouth hung agape, and Connor was staring at Dawn as if she had two heads.

And, much to Dawn's and everyone's surprise, the demons actually took a few steps back.

A few fearful steps.

Their murmurs were heard loud and clear:

"Buffy _Summers_?" one vampire asked, disbelievingly.

"Buffy _freakin'_ Summers? The Vampire Slayer? She's _here?_" another exclaimed, panicked.

"I heard she defeated a _god_!"

"I heard she killed the Master, _choke-slammed_ him right on a _stake_!" yet another said. "She even ground his bones into dust with a _sledgehammer_!"

"I heard she took down the Order of Taraka's finest!"

"I heard that she sent Angelus to _Hell_ one time!"

"I heard she actually _dated_ Angelus! Turned him into a good guy, even got him to stake Darla, his own _sire_!"

"I heard she kicked William the Bloody's ass like a bad habit! Got so bad that he actually changed sides to fight _with_ her to save his own life!" another chimed in, awed. "They say she has some sort of _witchcraft_ on the really badass vampires!"

"Yeah? I heard she killed Dracula! _Twice_!"

"I heard she blew up a pure demon! During an _Ascension_!"

"She's crazy, man! She blew up two school buildings with people inside just to get rid of all the demons!"

"They say she doesn't die...that she came back from the dead _twice_!" one vampire uttered. "I heard tell that she's actually an immortal!"

"She's the greatest Slayer who ever lived! She's killed _thousands_ of us!"

Dawn felt a little swell of family pride lit up in her. To think that her big sister was the main source of fear for the demons that bumped in the dark, for the evil that lurked everywhere, and that her deeds were so fabled, well…this had to be cool. She actually started to feel goose bumps, enjoying the feeling of being the center of attention, the most feared person in the room…or sewer.

_Wow, all I did was say her name - and these guys are practically wetting themselves_, Dawn thought, amazed. _Is this what it feels like? Is this what it feels like to be Buffy? To be a hero?_

Connor himself was taken aback. Sure, he was used to spreading fear among the demon populace himself. After all, one didn't get the title of 'The Destroyer' by playing nice. But while he was feared in Quor-toth, even he had never inspired such fear within the demons in LA as to make them panic with the mere mention of his name.

But all Dawn had to do was mention that girl's name, Buffy, and the vampires went into full panic mode, something even he hadn't been able to do. This increased his curiosity towards the blonde woman whom he'd fought with earlier at the hotel, and strangely enough, even more towards her sister. Perhaps there was something that Buffy had taught Dawn that made her look so amazing, in his eyes. So willful and daring.

So…special.

"Cage, man, this is _nuts_! I ain't goin' anywhere _near_ those chicks if _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ is backing them up!"

"She'll kill us. She'll kill _all_ of us!" one of the vamps closest to Cage whimpered.

Cage, silent until then, responded by backhanding the underling, hard. "Shut _up_, you pathetic worm! You're making us look bad!"

"And, what, before you were all cover candidates for GQ or YM? As _if_!" Dawn scoffed. _I __**think**__ that's what Buffy would say_, she thought apprehensively to herself, before straightening up, emboldened. _Yeah, that's __**so**__ a Buffy line!_

Cage took a beat, measuring his words carefully. This new development was unexpected. He had anticipated a tough but victorious fight with Connor, the child of two of the most feared vampires of all time. But he had not anticipated an encounter, here, in _his_ territory, with a living legend. With the greatest single Slayer in history.

He'd heard all the stories about this girl, this…Buffy Summers. Her reputation was nearly mythic. She had beaten some of the most feared and revered demons, even gods, who'd ever lived. Now he was having serious second, third and all the way down to eighth thoughts about messing with these kids if one of them was the legendary Slayer with the blonde hair who had...

_Blonde?_ Cage's head started to put two and two together. _Wait a minute_ -

He took another leering look at Dawn, who fought back the instinctive urge to cringe, as he let out a small chuckle.

"Hah! Nice try, sweet thing," Cage smiled evilly as he sauntered forward. "You almost had me there for a second. But you see…_Buffy_," he spat sarcastically. "When one builds up a rep like you have, people tend to remember the little things. Like that the infamous Buffy Summers is a small, but powerful, unbeatable…_blonde_ Slayer. Not a small, powerful unbeatable _brunette_."

_Uh-oh! Busted!_

Dawn's mind started its segue between panic and quick thinking. _Damn it, why couldn't Buffy have inherited Dad's hair color instead of Mom's?_ _Come on, think, Dawn, THINK!_

Luckily, she quickly came up with an answer. "Ever heard of _hair dye_, Fang Face? Girls use it, you know. Oh, wait," she paused, looking over Cage's balding head. "I guess you _wouldn't_, huh?"

_Hair dye? Oh, my God, that was sooo lame,_ Dawn mentally winced.

_Hair dye? How lame was that?_ Molly thought.

Cage let out an angry growl, moving to advance, which drew Connor to step further in front of Dawn. But one of the vampires held him back.

"That's _gotta_ be Buffy Summers, man!" he said. "They say she toys with her victims before she…" he drew a finger across his throat. "She's like a big cat playing with mice -"

"The only mouse here I see is you, Charlie," Cage snapped as he grabbed a fistful of the vamp's jacket and held him closer with one hand. "Now, shut up and let me do the talking, unless you want me to stake you myself - got it?"

The fledgling only nodded dumbly as Cage shoved him away, not taking his eyes off the youths.

"He's not _buying_ it," Vi muttered in a small singsong voice to Dawn.

"Let's wait 'til we _know_ that," Dawn sing-songed back.

Cage sauntered forward, a confident look playing across his demonic visage. "What do you think, that I was born yesterday? Well, my 79th birthday actually was yesterday, but that's besides the point…nothing about you screams 'Slayer', little girl. If you _really_ _were_ the infamous Buffy Summers, the Slayer of a Thousand Vampires, you'd be a lot more confident than what you are right now. I can smell your fear, sweetie. It's like a big, wafting perfume. Nothing that a _Slayer_ would have," he grinned nastily. "Besides, look at you. You don't even have a -"

Without warning, Dawn reached behind a surprised Connor's waistband and was suddenly armed with the Slayer's traditional weapon of choice.

"...stake," Cage suddenly swallowed, caught off-guard.

With a silent prayer that this next move would work, Dawn kept her eyes on the vampires, her eyes on Cage, while she twirled the stake readily in her hands, her fingers working frantically to keep the balance of the wood between them as it twirled rapidly.

She was only going from what she'd seen Buffy do a thousand times in training, playing with the wooden weapon in her hands like it was a piece of yarn, effortlessly speeding and spinning back and forth between the Slayer's hands. Buffy had only given Dawn a quick crash course in the technique one time earlier during the summer, while training her little sister.

Dawn was only paying half-assed attention to it that night, though, something she was partially kicking herself for mentally right now. But she did remember one bit of advice from her famous big sister:

_The key to the stake, like with fighting, is balance. Lose your balance, lose your weapon…lose your life._

Never had that statement held more weight than in this very moment. Where her life, and Connor's, and the lives of her friends were relying on whether she could do tricks with a piece of wood, like her sister, the world-renowned Buffy Summers.

_Please, oh, please, oh, please, don't slip_, Dawn silently pleaded with the stake. _Or fly loose, or, or…just don't, okay?_

For a while, it worked perfectly. She spun the stake, seemingly effortlessly, up and around. Frontways and sideways. To the left and to the right. Round and round. Back and f -

- flying.

Away. As in, out of her hands.

Dawn panicked. _Oh, NO_!

Vi and Molly gasped loudly, and Connor tensed himself for battle as they watched the stake soaring through the air -

- and slamming home in the chest of one of the vampires just to Cage's right.

Bull's eye.

Dawn's eyes widened in shock as the vampire looked up, dumfounded before he exploded into dust, the undead skeleton appearing for a mere fraction of a second.

Cries of awe and fear spread like fire though the vampires as they looked wildly between Cage, the dusted remains of their companion, and the infamous 'Buffy'.

Molly, wide-eyed, shook her head in amazement. "Wow! You never told me you could do that, Da - uh, Buffy!" she caught herself just barely, remembering about vampires' super-enhanced hearing.

"Holy crap!" Vi said with wonder, trading glances between Dawn and the suddenly terrified vampires. "You just dropped that vamp like a bad habit! That was so _cool_!"

Dawn, still in shock, barely acknowledged their enthusiasm. "Uh…thanks?"

Connor looked at her intently. She felt a little self-conscious under the handsome boy's scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he gave a faint smile and nodded. "Not bad."

Dawn's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah…" He looked back at the pile of dust. "For 'Buffy Summers', anyway."

The Slayer's sister smiled back sheepishly at him. "Yeah, well…that'll be our little secret, 'kay?"

Cage stared back up at this young girl, who had just staked one of his gang in the blink of an eye. If he wasn't a believer before, well, there was his proof, in the form of vampire dust at his feet.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, a touch of awe in his voice.

"Already are," Connor retorted.

He stared at Dawn. "You really _are _her, huh? Buffy Summers. _The_ Buffy Summers. Living legend."

Dawn squared her shoulders and straightened her posture, a gleam coming to her eyes, the confidence shooting right back into her. "Told ya." She looked at the vampires, who were suddenly quaking in fear. In her best cocky voice, "I'm Buffy Summers. The Vampire Slayer. Scourge of the Underworld. Slayer of gods and demons…"

_My God, could I sound any __**more **__like a bad episode of Xena? _Dawn rolled her eyes inwardly, before summoning a cold smile at the demons. "Now…who _else_ wants to play?"

"Screw this, man, I'm getting out of here!" one of them shouted as he headed for the exit.

Cage whipped out a stake of his own, and, without looking, let the stake fly, hitting the minion square in the back, piercing the heart. The vampire groaned just before he exploded in a cloud of dust.

"Cage, have you lost it?" another one cried. "He was one of us!"

"No one turns chicken and runs out in _my_ gang," Cage retorted angrily.

Dawn stared in shock at the head vampire. Without hesitation, he had just staked one of his own kind. Clearly, this bloodsucker was particularly vicious.

"Besides," Cage said, his malicious grin growing wider as he took two steps toward Dawn. "A thought just occurred to me. Not only do I have Mr. Souled Vamp's kid right in front of me, ripe for the pickin'," he said as his eyes ticked between Connor and back to Dawn.

"But now, I'm being graced by the presence of Buffy Summers, _the_ Slayer. _The_ Legend, the greatest and biggest and baddest of them all. Now, imagine how it'll look on my resume…if I can say that I snuffed out the great Buffy Summers with my own hands."

Cage's demonic yellow eyes glowed with glee as he dreamily anticipated his future. "My rep will be set up for life. Everywhere I go, in whatever town, in whatever bar, I'll be known as 'Cage, The One that Killed the Greatest Slayer Ever'. They'll be flocking in drones to join my gang. I'll have demons linin' up from Tinseltown to Tallahassee beggin' me to let them in, hell, I'll have to become _exclusive - only _the baddest_, only _the toughest. Forget about LA, I'll be respected and feared throughout the whole _world. _And the women..." he licked his chops at the thought, "I'm talkin' chicks up the wazoo, sweetie…and all I have to do, is wrap my hands around your pretty little throat and make you just a bad memory."

Dawn felt a chill go up her spine. _SOO not the way I hoped this would go!_

"Oh, that's great," Molly muttered. "Now, he's even _more_ determined to kill us!"

Although becoming increasingly terrified, Dawn kept up her bravado. "Okay, first off: 'The One that Killed the Greatest Slayer Ever?' Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. Second: you _really _think it's that easy, huh? You just kill me, walk around with another notch on your belt? I've been killing vampires for _years_, Chrome Dome. The _baddest _of them. Hell, I even killed a _god_! You can't even beat Connor over here, so how the hell do you expect to take _me _on?"

"Hey!" Connor protested, annoyed.

"No offense," Dawn added quickly.

Remembering that it was all a part of her ruse, the boy nodded, although slightly miffed. "None taken…I guess."

Dawn returned her gaze at Cage. "Here's the deal. You're going to let me and my friends get to where we need to go. After that, you're going to leave. And take your skuzzy little Lost Boys-_wannabes_ **with** you. You leave LA and never, _ever_ show your faces around here again. And in return, I'll be nice enough not to slowly, systematically and _painfully _kill each and every last one of you. Starting with _you_. And believe me, when I say that I am _not_ joking…I'm the Slayer. Death Incarnate. _I_ have the power here. _Not_ you. _Me_."

For extra punch, Dawn scowled, threateningly. "You want to throw down? _Try me_."

As she uttered those words, as her glaring blue eyes radiated strength, she seemed so powerful, so convincing in her confidence in her own strength, that for a moment, even her friends, who knew the truth, believed that she, Dawn Summers, was indeed this urban legend of the feared Slayer.

The vampires seemed to fearfully retreat into themselves a little more, while Cage stared at her intensely, mulling over her words. Considering his choices.

The teens stood fast, watching his reactions carefully, all the while bracing themselves for battle. Connor had another stake in his pocket with Cage's name on it. Molly had her crossbow aimed at one of the vampires on the left and Vi was tensed for a fight…or flight. Dawn held her breath, awaiting the vampire's decision.

Finally…he nodded.

"Step aside, boys," Cage ordered the rest of his gang as he stepped to the side.

Dawn blinked, astonished. The others exchanged baffled, confused glances amongst each other. That was it? Was it really that simple? Had this vampire decided to simply let them off the hook at the threat of Buffy Summers looming over their heads?

"Really? Just like that?" Vi asked, hesitant, but awed.

"Just like that, Carrot Top," Cage responded with an all-too-phony smile. "Hey, I'm a badass, but I know my limits. After all," he shrugged as he ticked his amber eyes back to Dawn. "You're right. I'm just a lowly vampire. Who am I to argue with the great Buffy Summers, huh?"

"You'll step aside?" Dawn asked, suspiciously.

"Yeah," Cage said simply.

"You're…letting us go?" Molly inquired, still dumbfounded.

"Mm-hmm."

"And you'll leave town? Never come back here again?" Connor asked as he glared at Cage with steely eyes.

Cage nodded. "Guess so."

Dawn glanced at Connor, her eyes asking him for his opinion. Though the hesitancy and reluctance reflected in the taller boy's eyes, he shrugged, apparently agreeing.

"Well…good," Dawn said. "You've made a smart decision."

Cage's toothy smile flashed again. "Well, better hurry up, Slayer. Time's a-wastin'."

Connor took a moment to glance back at the other girls. "We move together. As a unit. If one of them decides to try anything, we can start fighting back a lot faster."

"So, what, you want us to, like, hold hands or something?" Vi raised an eyebrow.

"Vi, get in the center, Molly, get in the back, 'Buffy' will cover you," Connor told them. "I'll take the front."

"W-wait a minute, the _back_?" Molly protested, reluctant. "What if they grab me or something?"

"That's kinda why you have the crossbow, Moll," Dawn reminded her. "Use it."

The group moved slowly across the sewer.

_Well, this is…good_, Dawn mentally sighed as she and the others inched closer to the exit past the vampires, towards the factory. _No tell-tale signs of any -_

Cage's hand whipped out at lightning speed, grabbing a startled Dawn by the throat and pulling her face-to-face with the demon.

_TROUBLE_!

"Dawn!" Vi cried out as she whipped out her stake, but one of the demons roughly grabbed her, while two others cornered Molly, who shakily struggled to get a grip on her crossbow, while another knocked Connor down to the floor, hard.

"Come on, sweetie," Cage laughed cruelly as he held a frightened, struggling Dawn fast in his grip. "You didn't really think I was gonna let an opportunity like this just pass me by, did ya?"

"Mmph! _Let_…_**go**_…_creep_!" Dawn gritted out, squirming in his grasp.

"Sorry, Summers," Cage smirked as he licked his lips. "But after everything I've heard about Slayer blood…I just gotta have me a taste -"

A steely grip suddenly shot up and caught Cage by the throat, stopping the stunned vampire's words in his mouth.

"Cage," Connor glowered as he stood up, his hand gripped firmly on his enemy's neck. "She's not on the menu."

With only one arm, the male teen then threw the vampire gang leader across the sewer, slamming him right into the opposite wall. One of the other vampires ran to strike him, but Connor's lightning fast reflexes evaded the demon's blow, while his hand shot out and struck him hard across the face. After a quick kick to the kneecap, Connor grabbed the vampire and tossed him over to the one holding Vi.

The two demons collided into each other, and tumbled to the ground. Vi, thinking quickly, used the opportunity to wrench herself free, driving a stake into the one that held her. The vampire exploded in a cloud of dust. The other one got up quickly and lunged for her, but the redheaded Potential ducked quickly under his grasp, kicking him quickly and backing up to join Connor and Dawn.

"You okay?" Connor asked the Slayer's sister quickly.

Dawn only nodded dumbly, before her eyes widened. "Connor, behind you!"

Cage charged hard into Connor, who went sprawling on his back. The vampire pounced on the boy, pinning his wrists on opposite sides of him, but the cunning young warrior head-butted Cage hard. As the vampire recoiled in pain, Connor used Cage's backward momentum to his advantage, shoving him off hard, before capitalizing with a hard kick to the face.

"Help Molly! I'll take care of Cage!" Connor called out to Dawn and Vi.

Dawn pried her wide eyes off Connor's battle long enough to spot Molly in a corner, two vampires closing the gap between them fast.

"Come on!" she said to Vi before the two girls sprung into action.

Molly aimed her crossbow at the vampire on the right, but the one on the left batted it away from her, grabbing the British Potential by the scruff of her neck. Molly let out a slight whimper as the vampire growled, lowering his face to her neck. Just then, a pair of hands sent the vampire spinning away, revealing Vi standing protectively in front of her friend.

"Thanks," Molly managed, slightly clutching her throat.

"Don't mention it," Vi replied, patting her lightly on the back.

"Guys! A little help here!" Dawn cried out as she narrowly ducked under the other vampire's grasp.

"Coming, Dawnie, just a tick!" Molly shouted as she raced over to Dawn, Vi hot on her heels. The two Potentials tackled the vampire to the ground, hard. Dawn took the opportunity to help as she pounced on the vampire, all three girls now attempting to hold down the pissed-off soulless demon.

By now, Cage and Connor had made it to their feet, the vampire leering predatorily at the young warrior, who only had eyes for him.

"So, that's your backup, huh, freak?" Cage scoffed as he and Connor circled each other, testing the other's movements. "A couple of scared little girls you grabbed down here and a Slayer to do your job _for_ you?"

He let a flying kick loose at Connor, who ducked under it and backhanded the vampire. "Not _everything_ is about you, Cage. We've got more important things to be doing right now than play with _you_."

Connor lashed out with a hard right hook, but the wily Cage blocked it, grabbing the arm and twisting it behind Connor's back, hard enough to make even the super-strong male teen wince in pain.

"Playtime's over, Junior," the vampire snarled. "You won't live long enough to humiliate me again."

He shoved Connor hard to the ground, pouncing on the boy and punching him hard in the face, drawing blood.

Cage began rambling. "Every time I've come up with a new gang…"

He punched Connor again.

"Every new guy I've had to sire…"

Another blow.

"And you've always come around with your super-powers…"

And another blow.

"And your stupid stake…"

The next punch nearly knocked Connor senseless.

Cage snarled between punches. "And you _keep_. _On_. _Making_. _Me_. _Look_. _Stupid_…"

Connor's hand shot up, gripping tightly around Cage's neck, before he tossed him away. The young man quickly sprung to his feet, wiping the trickle of blood from his mouth, scowling menacingly. He hated it when he bled.

"I don't make you look stupid, Cage," Connor spat as he readied himself. "Your stupidity makes you look stupid…well, that and that lame-ass jacket you're wearing."

Cage let out an angry roar as he lunged at the boy, but Connor ducked under the vampire's grasp, punching him hard in the face, and then connecting with a crushing kick to the demon's kneecap. Judging from the sickening 'crack' sound, he knew that he had broken it. As Cage doubled over in pain, Connor followed up with a hard elbow to the face, then kicked him hard in the gut, then grabbed the vampire by the collar and sent him spinning away, slamming hard against the wall.

Meanwhile, the girls were having their hands full with their pair of vampires. By now, one of them had recovered and grabbed Dawn, hauling her away from his companion, tossing her carelessly to the ground.

Dawn back away, her warm palms stiffening at the cold, damp ground beneath her, eyes wide in fear as the chain gang vampire closed in on her, licking his chops like a cat toying with a mouse. Just as the vampire reached for her, she shot her leg out, kicking him square in the groin, doubling him over in pain. Thinking quickly, Dawn used her other leg to sweep his legs out from under him, knocking him down.

Molly and Vi tried to regain control of their vampire, but he tossed Molly backwards while he grabbed a startled Vi by her slender throat and slammed her so hard against the wall that the pretty Potential was seeing stars.

"End of the line, little girl," the vampire growled as he lowered his fangs to a gasping Vi's neck -

_SCHUCK_!

The vampire pulled away suddenly, looking awed at the arrow tip protruding from his chest, an instant before he burst into a cloud of dust.

Vi looked in surprise, clutching her throat, to see her savior.

"_Told_ you I was a crack-shot," Molly smiled self-assuredly, her crossbow held firmly in her hands.

"Huh," was all Vi could muster.

Loud grunting sounds and Dawn's high-pitched squeals directed their attention towards their de-facto leader, and the girls ran towards the Key. The petite brunette was having her hands full with the vampire, the sneering demon managing to get on hand on Dawn's throat, when suddenly, Dawn scowled, elbowing the demon's arm loose, then poking him in the eyes, blinding him for a moment.

Dawn then used the opening to pull out her small black knife from her pocket. The vampire lunged for her again, but Dawn tuck-and-rolled swiftly under the vampire, plunging the knife into the demon's leg. _Gotcha!_

Molly and Vi looked on, impressed, before realizing that their standing about while Dawn was fighting for her life was probably likely to result in her losing of said life. With that, they bum-rushed the vampire, tackling him hard to the ground.

"Grab his legs!" Molly shouted to Vi, while the demon flailed about in their grasp.

"I'm _trying_!" Vi ground out. "If you could just hold his arms down, maybe he'd stop trying to _punch_ me long enough for me to _do_ it!"

"Molly! Stake!" Dawn called out. Sparing a quick, moment, Molly reached in her pocket and found her trusty stake, tossing it to Dawn. However, in that brief instant, the vampire batted Molly aside and pounced on Vi, who let out a startled cry. The vampire snarled as he leaned in for the kill. Completely ignoring Dawn.

That turned out to be a fatal mistake.

Dawn let out a small grunt as she raised the stake high above her head with both hands, before she plunged it into the vampire's back, who shot up in pain before he exploded into a cloud of ashes.

Vi stared up at Dawn, thunderstruck. The Slayer's sister, the one with no extraordinary powers save her incredible courage, had just saved her life.

"You okay?" Dawn asked, offering her a hand.

Vi took it, dusting herself off as she got to her feet. "I'm good. Thanks."

Molly, now standing, looked behind them at the battle between Connor and Cage. "Shouldn't we go lend Connor a hand?"

The trio watched as Connor skillfully began to dissect the vampire, ducking, dodging, striking, kicking, parrying, blocking, and punching so fluidly, so rapidly, it was almost like watching him dance.

"I think it'd almost be unfair," Dawn said as she raised her eyebrows in awe.

Cage landed hard on his back, wheezing and coughing, his blood-soaked teeth curled in a snarl. This had not gone well at all. He never got a shot at the Slayer, and this kid was kicking his butt all over the place…again. Luckily for him, he knew when to cut his losses.

"Screw this," Cage coughed, waving his hand dismissively. "You got lucky again, freak, this time. But next time, when the Slayer's not around to save your ass, you'll find me."

He scrambled up to retreat, when Connor's voice stopped him cold: "Hey, Cage!"

Stupidly, he turned around. "_What_?"

Connor's right hand stayed hidden for a moment -

"You forgot something."

…and then the stake came flying through the air…

…burying itself into Cage's chest. The vampire had only one second to say one last thing:

"Oh, _son of a bi_ -"

…and then Cage disintegrated, all that remained of him scattered on the floor, the dust almost completely covering the stake that had ended his immortal life.

Connor stared at the remains of the vampire, nodding in grim satisfaction. Almost immediately, the others rushed over to him, eager to check on him.

"Connor, are you okay?" Dawn asked, anxiously.

"Fine," he briefly replied, dusting himself off.

"But you're bleeding," Dawn said, as she reached up and gently touched a cut on his lip, split from one of Cage's punches.

Though through her soft touch, Connor felt a strange sense of comfort ease through him, a small shiver up his spine - something in him, some dark, dreading thing, made him want to jump back.

"Leave it, I'm fine," Connor said, gruffer than he intended to, swatting her hand away.

Dawn stepped back slightly, feeling oddly hurt by Connor's sudden change in demeanor.

When he caught the wounded look in her big blue eyes, something in the boy tightened up and felt ashamed. He hadn't meant for it to come out like that, but he was simply not used to someone tending to his wounds after a battle. He had always mended himself. Looked after himself.

The only time Connor could remember otherwise was when 'Cordelia' had nursed him after the Beast's arrival, which had resulted in several of Connor's ribs being broken, the first time he had ever been hurt so badly by anything…physically, anyway.

"I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Connor began, his sharp blue eyes filled with apology.

"Guys, not meaning to break up the fun-filled tension and all," Vi broke in, looking over her shoulder. "But, shouldn't we get a move on? Who knows how many more vampires or…whatevers, are down here?"

Sighing, Dawn checked her watch. Already an hour had passed since they had left the Hyperion, and they still weren't where 'Cordelia' was. Time was rapidly becoming an issue.

"We'd better get a move on," the Key said, moving to the front of the group. "Who knows how much time we have before fake Cordy decides to go Norman Bates on some other girl?"

"By the way, Connor, that was amazing," Molly gushed at the boy. "I've never seen anyone fight like that before."

"No kidding," Vi nodded in agreement. "You went all 'Jackie Chan' on that vampire. That was wicked awesome!"

Connor couldn't help but to manage a faint grin. "Well, I do stuff like that a lot, but…the stake thing _was_ kinda cool, huh?"

"Ah, Buffy does that all the time," Dawn shrugged, nonchalantly.

Connor frowned, slightly miffed that Dawn wasn't quite in such awe over his skill.

"Is your sister really as good as they said she is?" Connor wondered aloud. Ever since the vampires began their hysterical ramblings about the girl whom Connor fought in the hotel, he had become curious about her. Now was his chance to find out.

"Even more," Dawn replied, proudly. "She's the baddest Slayer who ever carried a stake."

"Well, she seemed pretty strong," Connor mused. "Still…I think I could take her."

Dawn snorted, regarding the boy strangely. "Nuh-uh! That fighting thing you did back there was cool and all, but Buffy would've been done with them and be halfway home to watch 'American Idol' in half the time."

"No, she couldn't," Connor said defensively.

Dawn rolled her eyes at the boy. "She _sooo_ could."

"Could not."

"Could, too."

"Could, not," Connor said, but now with a grin.

Dawn caught his gaze and, despite herself, smiled mischievously. "Could, _too_."

"Could _not_."

"Could, _too_."

"Could _not_."

"Could, _too_."

And on and on they went as they walked down the sewers, neither of them noticing Molly and Vi exchanging knowing smiles and giggles between them.

Ah, to see one's selves, as others would see them…

* * *

**Back at the Hyperion Hotel…**

* * *

"Alright, start talking and make it fast!" Buffy glowered menacingly at Skip, standing directly in front of the red prism trapping him.

"I'd suggest you listen to the lady," Angel glared at the mercenary demon, standing to Buffy's right, just a pace or two away. "You wouldn't like to see her get cranky."

The entire roster for both groups had convened in the lobby within moments of Lorne's distress call to Angel's room. The Potentials were still getting settled in, and had been told to stay in their rooms until further notice; something most of them had no problems with, the nightmare of the Bringers still fresh in their minds.

But Gunn, Fred and Lorne were present, each sitting or standing alongside each other, Wesley and Darla shoulder to shoulder, along with Willow and Kennedy (who was still glowing from her late afternoon roll in the sack with the redhead), Spike and Andrew flanking Faith, Principal Wood just to the left of the dark-haired Slayer, Anya just behind Xander, and Giles standing just behind the two Chosen warriors.

An impressive collection of heroes amassed in one room. Intimidating, even to an arrogant smart-ass like Skip.

"You guys are just wasting your time," the silver demon snorted, feigning fearlessness. "Nothing I tell you, or told you already, is gonna make one lick of difference."

"Cut the doom and gloom, Metallo," Buffy snapped. "I want to hear everything you know. Right now."

"Points for the DC comic book reference," Andrew nodded, pleased.

Spike and Faith exchanged a small glance with each other, and the vampire nodded, smacking the blonde geek hard upside the head. "Shut up and pay attention, you git!" Spike kept his voice to a low growl.

"Geez! Just saying," Andrew murmured, rubbing the back of his head tenderly.

"What's taken over Cordy? The _truth_," Angel asked, his voice icy with demand.

"Gosh, what's with the rush, you guys?" Skip smirked knowingly. "It wouldn't happen to be 'cause those wacky, crazy kids of yours went off rushing out of the hotel looking like they were off to stop Armageddon itself, now, is it?"

Buffy's chest felt tightened at his words. "You saw them leave? Dawn and Connor?"

"Well, yeah," the demon casually replied. "That little monitor system over there on the desk has pretty good feed on the entire hotel." He glanced smugly at Lorne. "Saw the little sprout nail you a good one. Heh, definitely got a kick out of that."

Lorne's red eyes narrowed and he stood up, menacingly, but Fred stayed him with a soft look and shaking her head. Reluctantly, the green-skinned demon sat back down, shooting death glares at Skip.

"Funny you find pain so amusing," Buffy smiled sweetly. "Now, unless you find your _own_ excruciating torment to be a laugh riot, my suggestion? Less evil banter, more intel."

"I'll ask again: what's taken over Cordy?" Angel said, his patience reaching its limits.

"Something beyond your comprehension," Skip sneered. "To give it voice…would be to rend your feeble brains to a quivering mass of…"

"Willow?" Angel snapped, effectively bored with Skip's posturing. "Infinite Agony."

The witch had a small, dark glimmer in her eyes that made Skip more than a little nervous. "Way ahead of you, Big Guy," she smirked as she raised her finger at Skip.

"OKAY!" Skip jumped back, staring in horror at Willow as if she had a loaded gun aimed at his face. Which, essentially, she did. "You got me, fine. It doesn't even _have_ a name."

"Oh, come on - everything has to have a name," Xander snorted. "Even the First Evil has a name. The _First_, see? Come on, it doesn't have a cute cuddly nickname all the girls at the 'U of Evil' called it back in the old days?"

"Xander, do be quiet," Giles said reflexively.

"Well, if it doesn't have a name, then what the hell do _you_ call it?" Gunn gruffly asked the demon.

"Just master, or…'hey'," Skip shrugged.

After a beat, Faith snorted. "Anyone ever tell you that you're really pathetic?"

Lorne winced. "Unspeakable horror. For real this time."

Angel began to sort this out, mentally retracing what had happened to Cordy over the summer. "No, it doesn't make sense. Cordy was made a higher being because she'd proved herself to the Powers by bearing their visions. This thing couldn't have -"

"Unless - it maneuvered her to inherit the visions in the first place," surmised Wesley, appearing to suddenly have an epiphany.

"Uh-oh. Better step on it. The rubes are catching up," Skip muttered wryly.

Giles began to analyze the situation. "Perhaps…it wasn't just her a-ascension."

"Oh, yeah," Skip said. "Better get to Mr. Peabody and the Way-Back Machine. Think back to when she first inherited the gift of the visions."

Angel swallowed hard as he remembered. "Doyle."

Buffy knew that name. She remembered a guy - nice-looking, Irish, kind of a weary look in his eyes - she'd met in Angel's office when she came to LA to see Angel four years ago, after the Thanksgiving from hell.

They had only spoken once or twice during that time, but she remembered him to be really nice. And she'd known even without seeing the pained glance in Angel's dark eyes that his death four years ago had touched Angel deeply, even to this day.

"Who's Doyle?" Faith asked, puzzled.

"One of the first members of Angel Investigations," Wesley explained, solemnly. "He was the one who originally received the visions, but he passed them on to Cordelia just before he died saving Angel's life."

"Oh, _yeah_," Spike tactlessly recalled. "That little poncy-lookin' Mick with the bad hair and crappy dress sense. I remember him."

Angel whirled on the younger vampire, his dark eyes flashing. "_Never_ talk that way about Doyle in my presence again, _boy_."

Spike was about to retort, when Buffy intervened. "Spike…don't make this any harder than it already is, okay?"

Spike scowled, but said nothing further.

Kennedy raised her eyebrows as she saw the two ensouled vampires stare each other down. "Whoa, check out the undead testosterone levels."

Robin took a moment to think about that. "The undead _have_ testosterone levels?"

"Okay, getting back on track," Willow drew their attention. "What did this Doyle guy have to do with Cordelia's whole evil make-over?"

"Wasn't just dumb luck that that girl came into his life," Skip continued, turning his gaze to Angel. "See, the Big Cheese knew that your little friend was gonna be all noble and take one for the team. But if he'd have passed on the visions to _you_, well, that would've mucked up the whole plan."

"So Cordelia was placed there to inherit the visions in his place," Buffy realized.

"Right on the nose, blondie," Skip nodded. "In order for this thing to have gone down like it has, the visions had to be inherited by someone of the fairer sex. A member of the Y-chromosome club wasn't gonna cut it."

Angel frowned as he began to understand, with sickening realization, what Skip was trying to say. "Everything that's happened to Cordy in the past few years, _all_ of it…was planned."

"You really think it stops with her, amigo?" Skip sneered, waving his hand around. "Do you have any concept of how many lines of destiny have to intersect in order for a thing like this to play out properly? How many events have to be nudged in just the right direction?"

His eyes ticked to Lorne. "Leaving Pylea."

Lorne's gaze narrowed, his thoughts traveling back to his native home world, Pylea, the day he'd left all those years ago. He remembered his wistful, yet relieved smile as he took one last look at his home, where his bearded mother stood glowering disapprovingly at him, his brother Numfar gyrating along to the ridiculous Dance of Joy, as he'd left home for what would be the (next to) last time before that bright spiralling portal suddenly opened up in the middle of the forest and sucked him out of the music-less Pylea, setting him down on Earth.

The place where he'd used his demon powers at the now-defunct nightclub _Caritas _to read auras and destinies, offer drinks and guide those who were lost onto their rightful path. A path that had led him directly into the lives of a heroic, but guilt-ridden vampire-with-a-soul with a storied, but dark past behind him and a great big destiny before him, a brave ex-Watcher, a feisty Seer, a brash young street thug/vampire killer, and a bashful physics genius/inventor.

Those who would lead him, the disgraced Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan, into adventures and perils he'd only dared to dream of, or watch on rental from Blockbuster. Those who would become more his family than those in Pylea could ever be.

Then Skip turned to Gunn. "Your sister."

Gunn's scowl masked the flash of inner grief as he thought of his dear little sister, Alonna, screaming in terror, crying out desperately for him as she was dragged away in that van, being bitten fiercely by those vampires. His only living link to his blood family ripped away from him, becoming even more final as he unwillingly flashed back to the stake in his hand, squishing, breaking through skin and bone, as he ended the un-life of his newly-sired sister, an experience that had left him feeling more empty and alone than he had felt since his parents were killed all those years ago.

Also by vampires.

Ironic how it was a vampire, with a soul, who'd helped to give the former leader of the vampire-hunting Venice Boulevard Crew a _new _family, a new place, and a new mission in his otherwise chaotic life.

Skip turned to Fred. "Opening the wrong book."

Fred's eyes widened in horror as she recalled that fateful night in that public library seven years ago, remembered innocently uttering strange words without vowels from an old book, one recommended to her by her trusted Professor Seidel.

Remembered that swirling vortex of light opening from out of nowhere in the middle of the black-and-white tiled floor, which - while liberating Lorne from his oppressive home - had sucked her away from her comfy life on Earth as an brilliant up-and-coming undergraduate physics student at UCLA, and into a five-year sentence of hard labor, torment, and near-insanity as a slave, a 'cow' in the strange alien world of Pylea.

Until Angel and his friends had rescued her and brought her back to LA, took her in, slowly helped her re-assimilate into the world and made her one of their own.

Skip swiveled towards Wesley. "Sleeping with the enemy."

Wesley's stern blue eyes reflected his astonishment. He ruefully remembered his lost Lilah, and their twisted tryst, the perverted kinks and love-hate sexual chemistry they had shared with each other.

Wes also remembered the oddly-placed, but beautiful little spark of joy in Lilah's eyes when he'd confirmed their relationship by his use of the R-word, after one of their many nights of passion. He had often wondered, with no loss of guilt, whether or not he'd helped to make her weaker. Softened her guard, lowered her defenses long enough for Lilah Morgan - the coldest, most ruthless lawyer in the nest of vipers that was Wolfram & Hart - to walk into the disasters that befell her, ultimately leading to her untimely death at the hands of 'Cordelia'.

Skip glanced at Darla. "Failing the Trials."

Darla's beautiful features tightened in surprise as her mind took her back to the Great Hall where the Trials had taken place. She could still see Angel, bruised, suffering, but fighting relentlessly…for her. For her life. Which was fading fast, thanks to Wolfram & Hart's resurrection of her human body in a terminally ill state.

Darla could still recall the deep breath, the sigh of relief, as Angel had emerged, alive and well, victorious. And she could vividly remember the look of loss, of grief, of utter dejection in her would-be savior's face as he'd furiously smashed everything in sight, after he'd discovered that for all his efforts, for all he'd risked, Darla's life could not be saved after all.

Skip's revelations had truly stunned them all. He smiled, well pleased with himself. "Gosh, I love a story with scope."

"So, what, you're saying that the Big Bad squatting inside Cordy has been playing puppet master with Angel and his crew for the last four years?" Buffy raised an eyebrow. "That seems pretty unlikely to me. Nothing can just…twist fate."

Skip let out a harsh chuckle as he turned his eyes towards the Slayer. "Oh, is that right, Most Blonde One? Come on. You don't think that the Monkey Boy and the rest of his chimps are the _only_ ones who got played like fiddles, do you?"

Giles stiffened. "What are you saying?" he asked, in his even, almost deadly quiet manner.

"Yeah, Bucket O'Rusty, what _are_ you sayin'?" Spike called up to him, perturbed. This slow burn interrogation was really starting to piss him off. He'd much rather have let the demon out of his invisible cage and just beat the info out of his shiny chrome head any day.

_But no, that ponce Angel had to be all methodical, _Spike thought derisively. _Stupid git_.

"Oh, come ON, people!" Skip groaned, astounded by the short-sightedness of this human-demon mix. "All these years you've known each other, and not once did you question the oddity of the events that unfolded? How the outcomes of your lives, your biggest battles, your darkest moments have tipped the scales so that we're all here sitting cozy right now?"

Skip slid his eyes onto Willow. "Your first major spell."

Willow's eyes widened at the reference. The Orb of Thesulah. Junior year. The spell she'd used to re-ensoul Angel, the first time he'd reverted into Angelus back in Sunnydale.

She could still remember Cordelia's firm, reassuring grip on her trembling hands, the look of fear and concern on Oz's face as she'd weakly attempted, from a hospital bed, to perform the ancient gypsy spell left behind by Jenny Calendar's final act.

Willow still remembered the unearthly jolt of power she'd felt, only moments after nearly passing out from the strain on her injured body, that suddenly overtook her and allowed her to finish the spell, restoring Angel's soul once more. One of many successful spells the redhead would end up doing over the years on the way to becoming the deadliest Wicca in the Western Hemisphere, and one of the most dangerous and powerful magic practitioners on this plane of existence.

Skip turned to Giles. "Getting picked to be a certain Slayer's personal Watcher."

Giles barely repressed a gasp as he remembered the late Quentin Travers's passive face, as the man had calmly handed him that bulky manila envelope at the Watchers Council HQ in London all those years ago with two red emboldened words that had impacted his life, and the lives of others, in more ways than he could imagine.

Two words that would bring Rupert Giles, lifelong bachelor, reckless rebel, and the formerly infamous _Ripper_, into the lives of an extraordinary young Slayer he would love like a daughter, and an ever-changing group of brave children he would love as family and watch blossom into heroes as they saved the world on too many occasions to count: '**Assignment****: ****Sunnydale**.'

Skip then sneered openly at Anya. "Losing your amulet."

The beautiful ex-vengeance demon vividly recalled the Wish-verse Giles smashing her precious amulet all those years ago, which had left her, the reputed and feared 1,100-year old Anyanka, trapped in the body of an 18-year-old human girl.

And leaving the door open for adventures and experiences, some good, some bad, all amazing, that she could have barely conceived even in her wildest dreams, alongside a Slayer, a witch, a Watcher, a vampire, a teenager/Key and a brave, handsome young man named Xander Harris.

Skip turned to Faith. "Waking up from your coma."

Faith's jaw dropped as she remembered the night she'd awoken after eight months of darkness and nightmares, the result of Buffy's knife buried deep in her gut all those years ago that had put her in a coma she was never supposed to awaken from.

The dark-haired young woman could still call to mind the chills in her body, the jarring nightmares, the cold sweat dripping down her face, her heart hammering in her chest, the lightning crackling and thunder rolling outside her hospital window, a nightmarish greeting to her return from her own personal hell. A second chance given to her that would later allow the former rogue Slayer to redeem herself for the bloody sins of her own treacherous past.

Skip glanced at Spike. "Getting your soul back."

Spike's blue eyes scrunched in pain as flashes of the painful, nearly fatal Trials he'd endured in the heart of Dark Africa raced through his mind. Fists of fire slamming into him, burning him, searing him...scarabs, thousands of them, crawling out from the darkness of the enchanted cave, pouring into him, crawling, devouring, engulfing him whole.

All that had paled in comparison to the ungodly agony he'd felt when his prize was given to him, though: his soul, his human conscience...and the mind-shattering torment from the remorse he'd felt for his century of evil deeds as the sadistic William the Bloody.

Skip looked towards Robin. "Your mother."

Just like that, Robin Wood was four years old again. In his mind's eye he could see his mother, his beautiful, brave mother, caressing him with soft, sweet words of love and a tender embrace before running off into that New York City subway.

Running off to meet head-on with her soon-to-be murderer, Spike. Running off to die. And leave him alone in the world, the only memory of her carried on by her Watcher, Bernard Crowley, who would raise him and train him the same way he'd trained Nikki Wood, the ways of the Slayer - his mother's legacy - in the wake of her brutal death.

Skip's words caused waves of shock to reverberate through all the Sunnydale group, Scooby and non-Scooby alike, each of them turning to one another, stunned into absolute silence. The most important events of their lives were just…_manipulated_? Like pieces on a chessboard?

Skip saved the best shock, however, for the least likely member of the group.

Xander.

"With you, though, funny thing how it's actually a tie…" Skip drawled lazily, even arrogantly.

"What?" Xander choked out. "What…tie?"

"Dating Cordelia Chase…and the Big Lie."

Xander's mouth was agape in horror. "Wait, wait, wait…you're saying that Cordy and I dating in high school…that was _planned_?"

Skip snorted. "Oh, please. You honestly think that in her right mind, a girl like that would've wanted _anything_ to do with a guy like _you_? Now that's really sad!"

Xander clenched his fists hard, that last comment irking him more than he'd thought possible.

Granted, even though his relationship with Cordelia had ended on very bad terms, he'd always thought that they'd had a connection back then. He remembered all too well the passionate make-out sessions in the closets of Sunnydale High School, the times they had held each other in comfortable silence, the sweet words only they alone, when no one else was around, had shared. Harris recalled his words to her years back, when their relationship had first become public knowledge:

'_Maybe something in you…sees something special inside me. And vice-versa.'_

Xander truly did believe that. That maybe something, somewhere, deep in the heart of the self-proclaimed 'Nastiest Girl in Sunnydale', had seen something worthy about Alexander Lavelle Harris…something that had made him want to be a better person. A better man.

_That couldn't have been fake_, Xander thought tentatively. _Could it?_

Buffy furrowed her brow in thought. "Wait, hold on a sec - big lie? What big lie?"

Skip smirked maliciously at her. "Oh, that's right. This chump-nut never told you, did he? Think back, blondie. Junior year of high school. Fight to the death with your ex-boyfriend over there…three words that were vital to be heard. 'Kick his ass.' Ring any bells?"

Buffy frowned, before her eyes widened in horror, her mind replaying a moment with Xander from one of the worst days of her entire life...the day she'd sent Angel, the man she loved, into the depths of Hell.

_Willow...she told me to tell you..._

_Tell me what?_

_...kick his ass._

Buffy's disbelieving eyes slid towards Xander, who met her gaze, almost steadily, nonchalantly, at least for a moment - before averting his gaze toward the floor.

"What Willow said for you to tell me…the day I fought Angelus…" Buffy said, realization dawning on her. "That's not…"

"What I said? No, it wasn't," Willow said, frowning at Xander.

Fred looked at Angel curiously. "What are they talking about?"

Angel remained silent, looking on at the unfolding drama intently.

"No, it wasn't, was it, Red?" Skip chuckled. "You told the overevolved orang-utan over there to tell blondie about your little re-souling spell being ready to go on Angelus, so that she could get her boyfriend back. But that's not what Messenger Boy told her, was it? No, no. 'Kick his ass'."

Skip turned to face Buffy. "And, well, you did. All the way to Hell…and back again."

Xander looked back up at Buffy, his gaze dead serious; one of the rare moments he did that. "It's true. I did what I had to do, at the time."

"What? _Lie_ to me?" Buffy asked, both incredulous and furious at his gall. "_Betray_ my _**trust**_?"

"No," Angel said, stunning both of them. "He got you focused. Buffy…Xander did the right thing."

Xander could only stare at the ensouled vampire, agape in awe. Never in a million years would he have expected _Angel_, of all people, to say those words.

Buffy stared at him, completely shocked. "What? Angel, how can you _say_ that? If Xander hadn't lied to me, if he had told me about Willow's spell -"

"Then you would've risked getting killed and having six billion people ending up in Hell," Angel cut in, his eyes solemn, his tone somewhat gentle, but losing none of its practicality. "Think about it, Buffy. If you had gone into the mansion that day thinking that there was _any_ hope of bringing me back, even one chance in a billion, would you have fought as hard as you did?"

"_Yes_," Buffy said automatically, although her heart was wavering on that short affirmation.

Angel knowingly shook his head. "No, you wouldn't have. You would have held back. Tried to buy time. Gone softer on your attack. All Angelus would've needed is just one split second, one moment where you let your guard down, one moment where you left a hole in your defense, one tiny instant where you weren't at your very best…and you would've been dead."

"And sent the whole world to Hell in the process," Anya added.

"You're _wrong_," Buffy ground out, flooded with fresh pain from an old wound in her heart that had never truly healed.

"No. He's right," Darla threw in. "Believe me, I taught Angelus to _always _go for the jugular. Both metaphorically and literally. I taught him how to use any opening he could find, exploit any weakness, find any hole no matter how small, and to twist it, and bend it, and expand and manipulate it until it became an advantage. If you'd have known about the spell…he would have killed you that day. In effect, Xander's lie saved your life."

"And condemned Angel to suffer for a hundred _years_ in a _hell_ dimension!" Buffy retorted, the image of Angel's stunned face, sword protruding from his heart, his hand stretched out to her pleadingly as he was sent to Hell burning brightly in her memory. "Not to mention made me skip town for _three_ _months_ to deal with the fact that I'd _k__illed_ the _only_ person in the world that I…" She broke off, her emotions starting to get the better of her.

Buffy's eyes met Angel's, both of them awash in memories of the past. "I killed you."

"I came back, didn't I?" Angel said, gently. "I always do."

The small smile Buffy offered Angel spoke more than words could say.

"What about _me_?" Andrew wondered aloud. "I _have _to have fit in there somewhere!" He puffed up like a fish, trying to seem important. "I mean, I used to be an…_evil_ _genius_."

Skip looked at the guy like he had two heads. "You? Actually, you weren't planned on at all. You just sorta Forrest Gump'ed your way into this story. Who the hell are you, again?"

"Um…Andrew Wells," the geek offered timidly. "So…nothing? I wasn't…manipulated into anything? Not Jonathan's murder, or joining with Warren and the Trio…summoning the flying monkeys to attack my high school, anything? I'm…_not _a player in this story?"

"Could've told you that myself, Spanky," Spike snorted. "Now siddown and shut yer gob, you're not letting the nice minion talk."

Deflated, Andrew slumped back down in his seat.

Buffy shook her head firmly. She refused to believe that her life - all the hell she'd been through, literally - had been prearranged by some asshole demon sitting around somewhere and laughing at her plight. "No…I don't believe you. We control our own fate, not the other way around. Proof being, there's a prophecy or twenty that I've stopped, time and again."

Skip laughed contemptuously at her, making the petite Slayer even madder.

"Please, Goldilocks, _you_? You couldn't even _comprehend _how many times _your _life script's been edited just so all this could all take place. You think it was sheer coincidence that you ended up moving to a town which contained the Hellmouth as its main tourist attraction? Or that Tall, Dark and Clueless over there," he pointed at Angel, "just happened to cross your path? Or how those monks sent _you_, of all people, the Key - one of the most powerful mystical forces in the known universe - in the form of your closest living blood kin?"

"Dawn," Buffy whispered, suddenly horror-struck.

"You think it was just a clumsy CPR attempt and cheap magic tricks that let Unrequited-Crush Boy and Puking-Out-Snakes Girl bring you back _twice_, from beyond the grave?"

"Hey!" Willow and Xander exclaimed simultaneously, offended.

Ignoring them, Skip went on. "You really believe it was all just dumb luck how you've met all the people you've met, befriended all the beings you've befriended, or made enemies of all the fiends you've fought time and again? Hey! Wake up, Little Miss Blonde Concepts, if it wasn't for the boss's actions - you'd have been a forgotten pile of bleached bones for the last six years. Just like that inevitable prophecy said, way back when."

"But, see, here's the part where I'm kinda getting lost," Faith scrunched up her eyebrows, pondering. "If the Big Bad With No Name was the one doing all this shit right from the start, then what part does the First have in any of this?"

All eyes shot to Faith in surprise at her astuteness.

"What?" Faith shrugged, a little peeved. "Contrary to popular opinion, there is gray matter behind this pretty face."

"Actually, that's a good question," Buffy mused, her eyes looking back to Skip for the answer. "Well?"

"Dunno," the mercenary demon shrugged. "Only said that it wanted, no, needed that thing to be born. But why the First Evil wanted it…he, it, whatever…was really keeping that on the down-low. Real hush-hush. Only told 'Cordy' what the bun in the oven was really all about."

"So…you're saying, that the First Evil is the _real _brains behind this whole thing," Angel said.

"Could be," Skip shrugged. "Or, it could be in cahoots with the Beastmaster. That whole bit, it's a little hazy. But, either way, one of those two has been making you puppets dance to their tune for the last few…centuries."

Gunn wasn't buying it. "No way. We make our _own_ choices."

"Yeah, sure. A cheese sandwich here, when to floss there…" Skip feigned his agreement. "But the big stuff," he leered at Angel, "like two vampires squeezing out a _kid_?"

If Angel's heart could beat, it would have frozen at that moment. His eyes flew to Darla's as they simultaneously uttered one name: "Connor."

A light dawned in Wesley's eyes as he suddenly got it. "An impossible birth, to make one possible."

Skip nodded, "That's what the kid was designed for."

"What, to sleep with Mother Love?" Lorne skeptically wondered.

"Yeah…to create a vessel," Angel realized.

Skip snorted. "Whoa, look out, the monkey's thinking again."

After giving the demon a glare, a thought occurred to Buffy. "Being inside a human…that makes it vulnerable, doesn't it?"

"P-perhaps that's why it had to stay hidden," Giles said contemplatively. "It needed to create something stronger to, ah, pour itself into."

"And what better way to stay hidden from its closest threats than to pose as one of their own?" Anya elaborated. "So it used Cordelia's body as camouflage, until the right time where it could manifest itself into a more powerful shell. Something less…break-y."

Gunn frowned in confusion. "Wait, so the big nasty inside of Cordy is going to give birth…to _itself_?"

Skip smirked. "Circle of life. It's a beautiful thing."

"Drop the melodramatic, Simba," Spike snapped. "Just get to the part where you tell us how we stop the chit."

"Well, that's the easy part, Billy Idol," Skip shrugged. "All you gotta do is find Cordelia…and chop her head off."

The silence that filled the room was almost deafening. Looks of horror and disbelief passed through nearly all the faces of each of the members of both Sunnydale and LA groups. Especially those who had known Cordelia well.

This was something that they didn't plan or dream of hearing...that in order to save the world, Cordelia Chase, their long-time friend...

...would have to die.

"No," Buffy said in a small voice. "No, that can't be the only way…" _Not again. I can't lose another friend. I can't lose anyone else I care about again. _

Angel shook his head, refusing to believe what he just heard. He'd already lost too many people he cared about. He couldn't lose Cordy, too. Not after all they'd gone through. Not after what she had given up to fight side-by-side with him, with his frie…no, family.

"Has to be another way," the Champion said quietly, his voice tight with fear and a small dash of hope.

"There's _got_ to be!" Xander exclaimed, a cold shiver suddenly passing up his spine at the image.

Skip, taking no pity in their grief, delightedly elaborated. "Sure. Stab her in the heart, kidney…a couple of pokes in the lung, maybe she'll drown in her own blood -"

"A way that _won't_ kill Cordy in the process!" Angel snapped, his patience with the callous demon at an end.

"Ha! Forget it, pal. It takes a _whole _lotta crammin' to get that much sweetness into a human," Skip sneered. "It's in every hair, every cell, every molecule of Cordelia's body, and it ain't letting go until it's got a brand new bag."

"What happens to Cordy, then?" Fred asked tentatively. She could scarcely believe that this was happening to brave, sweet Cordelia, her friend.

"Drained of her life force during labor. Those contractions are a real bitch," Skip said nonchalantly.

Xander paled at the demon's words. "It'll _kill_ her?"

"Or, she'll end up a head of cabbage. Doesn't really matter either way, though, does it?"

In shock, Xander dropped back down to sit on the steps, horrified. _No, no, no…_

Gunn ran his hand across his face in disbelief. Fred looked close to tears. Willow's jaw dropped in utter dismay. Lorne turned away, visibly upset. Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes in sadness. Faith sat stunned, while even Spike's eyes widened, knocked for six by the news.

Buffy could feel the familiar pain of loss creeping up inside of her. Cordelia had never been a close friend, but she was a friend nonetheless. Someone close to her world. Like her mother was. And Tara. And Jenny. And Kendra. The thought of losing another friend to this endless madness made her throat constrict painfully.

But if it hurt like this for her, she could only imagine what it must have felt like for Angel. Cordelia was after all, his seer, perhaps his best friend. As she saw Angel's dark, yet soulful eyes cloud with grief as a forlorn look fell over his handsome visage - a look that spoke of deep, soul-shaking pain - Buffy knew all she needed to know about what was going on in the mind of one of the dearest people in her life.

In shock, Wesley dropped the Codex he held on the floor at the words. He'd known Cordelia since Sunnydale. He'd courted her, then befriended her, and argued time and time again with her. She was the little sister he'd never been blessed enough to have.

And now, it looked like they might lose her. Not like in Pylea, where she had been lost, then found. This time, it was for keeps. This time, she would remain lost. Forever. The thought made the hardened Englishman suddenly sick with horror at the thought.

The Codex remained lying there, landing open on a few pages that almost seemed to turn at will. In the wake of the news of Connor and Dawn's departure, Wesley, Darla and Giles had barely gotten started on the research needed to find an answer for Cordelia's condition.

Darla, a little wigged by the occurrence that no one else seemed to notice, curiously skimmed a few of the pages. For she, too, having been born over four hundred years ago, was also familiar with Latin. She kept reading on at the two open pages…and her eyes widened at what she read.

Skip gave a pointed look at both Angel and Buffy. "And as if that isn't enough, there's still the little problem of whether or not you can stop her before your idiot kids get there."

"Oh, God," Buffy muttered. "Dawn."

"And Connor," Angel added with a groan.

"Hate to break it to you," Skip chuckled sadistically. "Oh, who am I kidding? I _love_ breaking it to you! But your little super-brats, if they busted out of here to make a run at Cordelia, and odds are, given they've inherited your lack of brains, they _did_…they're in big trouble, with a capital O-U-B-L-E."

Buffy and Angel exchanged mutual looks of concern. Now they were _really_ worried. Given the Beastmaster's penchant for killing, sending an under-trained teenage girl, her under-prepared Potential Slayer friends, and an unpredictable, super-powered, possibly mentally unstable, hormonally rampaging boy against someone as clever and as deadly as 'Cordelia' was a guaranteed way for those kids to end up tragic headlines in the _Los Angeles Times_ in the morning.

Faith looked at the two of them, gauging their reactions. "So…what do you guys want to do?"

Skip answered gleefully for them. "The only thing they _can_ do. Kill her old friend from high school…" his eyes slid to Buffy, before finding Angel, "…and one of the few women he gives a damn about, to save those kids…_and_ the world." He smirked cruelly at the two crestfallen warriors. "Times like this, really gotta suck being you."

"Maybe…but then again, maybe _not_," Darla said.

All eyes turned to her at once.

Wesley looked at her, suspicious. "Darla? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean…" the blonde said as she turned the book to him. "…that it looks like there might be more than one way to skin a parasite. And that this demon has very carefully avoided mentioning something we already knew - how there are _two_ entities within Cordelia."

Skip glowered and Wesley frowned as he took the book, skimming a few pages of it. The others watched the younger ex-Watcher carefully, watched as his keen eyes narrowed while he read quickly through the pages of the mystical book…and then widen as he saw something.

"Wes?" Angel asked cautiously. "You find anything?"

"Pryce?" Giles asked, curiously. "What have you found?"

Wesley took a few moments before he looked back up at the group.

"_Wesley_?" Buffy asked, her nerves working up on ends. "Come on, the suspense is killing me…and Cordelia, and maybe about six billion other people, too."

Wesley looked at Darla, who only gave a faint nod, before he looked back up at them.

"There might be a way."

* * *

TBC…

* * *

Next chapter: As a plan comes together to save Cordelia's soul, Dawn and Connor make their way towards the Beastmaster's hideout. But will they live long enough to buy our heroes time to act? Or will their inexperience and the evil of 'Cordelia' prove their undoing?

How close are Oz, Lindsey and Whistler?

And what are the plans of the First Evil?

Stay tuned and find out!

* * *

Happy Reading and Please Review!

Bye now,

Jean-theGuardian


	13. Part 11 Offering

A/N: Hey, guys! I know, I know, it's been a long time, but I've had a ton to do, with two jobs,

personal crisis's, and viruses nearly crashing my computer. But with any luck,

and my muses singing to me anew, I should have a new chapter up within two weeks.

I want to thank everyone whose stuck with this story and reviewed so far. You guys are great.

Mark my words, you will see an ending. And as always, if you guys feel

I'm missing something, please let me know. Your feedback makes this story improve.

Sorry if I've been killing you guys with the time, but remember, haste crap not worth five minutes of your reading time.

Now, on to the story!

* * *

Bring Me To Life – Part 11

**_Offering_**

* * *

"There's no way!"

Molly was holding steadfast in her refusal as she eyed the sea of creatures swarming about in the shallow gap between them and the other sewer link that separated them from their final destination.

Rats.

Swarms of rats.

Giant, nasty-looking rats.

Come on, Molly", Dawn cajoled her. "We're almost there."

The British girl looked between her friends and the gaping hole that separated them from a ladder leading up a sewer line. One that Connor was steadfast that would lead them right to 'Cordelia'. Which, would have been great…except for the fact that the gap between Molly and the others, who had already crossed over, was all but filled with rats.

And of all the animals on this green earth, rats were the one creature that Molly detested and feared the most. Ever since she was five, when a rat crawled into her playhouse and scurried about her makeshift tea table, frightening her little friends screaming away. She could barely stand to be within five feet of one rat, much less dozens upon dozens of them.

"Uh…I…is there s-some sort of…alternate route?", Molly asked with much trepidation. "O-or some…_other_ dark, creepy sewer that we've overlooked, perhaps?"

"No", Connor said simply.

"You're sure?", Molly asked again, wincing as she saw the rats crawling and wriggling about.

"Moll!", Dawn snapped. "We're running out of time! _Cordelia_ is running out of time! Hurry up and get your tiny little English ass over here, _now_!"

The British girl scowled, annoyed. "Didn't have to get that personal, you know. I'm not tiny. I'm petite."

"Molly?", Vi whined, exasperated. "Just hurry up and come on!"

Taking a deep breath, Molly steeled herself, took two large steps backwards, and, with a silent prayer, got a running start towards the ledge. She squealed as she hung mid-air after her leap, which was not nearly enough to make the clearing on the other side, as he felt herself falling towards the swarm of rats below…

…Fortunately, Connor's supernatural speed allowed him to grab her just in the nick of time, pulling her to safety, and before she realized what was happening, her feet were on solid ground, standing just between Vi and Dawn.

"Great Moses!", was all a stunned Molly could say.

"Wow. Super speed. Cool", Vi nodded.

"Come on", Connor said, as he began to climb a ladder leading to the nearest manhole cover above them, without as much as a look back.

Molly stared up after him. "Intense, isn't he?"

"Gee, ya think?", Dawn muttered sarcastically.

The others followed his lead. Soon, they were up at the surface. A back alley route sandwiched between two factory-like buildings. The smell of garbage and sewage drain was quite powerful, and it took all of Dawn's will to keep her from gagging at the stench. Whoever said being a hero was easy work clearly hadn't read the entire brochure.

"Where are we?", she asked allowed.

Connor whipped around, frowning. "Keep quiet!", he whispered, furiously. "This is the place."

"Which is where again, exactly?", Dawn whispered back, placing her hands on her hips, annoyed.

"Downtown. Meatpacking district", he answered, before moving cautiously. "Come on. I know a way in from here, but we need to keep quiet or-"

Suddenly, he grew quiet. He ticked his gaze to the left of him, where a large metal door stood.

Wigged by his behavior, Dawn asked, "Connor? What is it?"

He turned his eyes back to them. "Someone's coming. We gotta move. Go!"

Not three seconds after he warned them, the large metal door swung open. For a moment, nothing was there.

And then, from the darkness of the doorway, out stepped a scowling 'Cordelia', one hand tucked on her pregnant stomach, the other hand hidden behind her back, clutching a meat cleaver.

In her paranoid state, she had thought she heard something outside. Could have been Angel, or the Slayer, or perhaps another virgin girl. In the last hour she had tried several times to lure some unsuspecting girl into the alleyway, but had failed at the last moment. She had tried to play the damsel-in-distress card, the pregnant-woman-in-distress card, or the weeping-woman-in-distress card. And she had come close to succeeding.

So close.

But to no avail. The girls she sought out were either accompanied by someone, ran off to get help, or were called back by someone at the last instant, leaving 'Cordelia' to forcibly retreat.

She suddenly winced, rubbing her free hand over her stomach. She felt the creature inside of her growing with every instant. She knew if she didn't find a virgin sacrifice quickly, then the First would have her head on a stick. But she couldn't risk such open exposure now, especially with such powerful enemies hunting her at every corner. She slowly closed the steel door, disappearing back inside the darkness…

…unaware that just above her, hanging on a fire escape ladder, stood Connor and three determined teenage girls, plotting her downfall.

"That was close", Vi noted, in awe of how fast Connor was able to grab them all and wisk them up the fire escape just as 'Cordelia' was coming out.

Connor frowned. "Too close. She's getting desperate. I could smell it."

"Then now's the time to trip her up", Dawn said. "While she's all screws loose."

"'Cordelia' doesn't make many mistakes", Connor warned. "So we have to make sure that we make none."

He looked up for a moment, up the ascending fire escape. "Come on, I know an entrance up on the roof. It should get us up somewhere we won't be detected, for now."

He was moving just as quickly as he was talking, forcing the girls to try to catch up. Dawn noticed that Connor had become rapidly more stone-faced as they drew nearer to 'Cordelia' with each passing minute. Part of her rationed that it was some sort of inherited Angel-trait, the white knight routine he'd play whenever he and Buffy drew closer to trouble, the need to protect her, so she read in Buffy's diary the nights she stayed out late slaying. But from the narrowing of his eyes, the tension in his otherwise stealthy stalk, she knew that there was more than meets the eye about this. Something told her that Connor was holding something back from her that involved 'Cordelia'. Something big, but she didn't know what.

Not yet.

Connor led them to a small shaft up on the rooftop. With a burst of inhuman strength, Connor pulled the bolted-shut lid right off the ground. "We should make it through this way. I'll go first, scout ahead."

Dawn was hesitant. "I don't know if that's such a good-"

But he already disappeared down the shaft.

"…Idea. But hey, what do I know? I'm no superkid, why should my opinion matter?", Dawn huffed.

"Maybe it's a…guy thing", Vi suggested.

"Or a super-guy thing", Molly ventured.

"Whatever", Dawn muttered. "Come on, Prancer and Vixen, Santa's going to need our help."

Dawn then slid down the shaft, followed by Molly. Vi took in a deep breath, as she stared uncertainly down the dark shaft.

"Ho-ho-ho", she sighed, and then she slipped down the shaft.

She resisted the urge to scream as she found herself propelling downwards rapidly through the metal-encased tunnel, like riding 'The Hulk' at Universal Studios, only minus the roller-coaster, and the safety rail, and the dozens of others people on the ride…and the brakes for that matter.

She let out a startled cry as she shot out of the shaft's end, only to find Connor waiting there, catching her swiftly to break her fall. Vi stared up at the handsome teenager, moony-eyed , as she was held in his arms.

"I gotcha", he said as he gently lowered her to the ground.

"Bet you say that to all the girls", Vi smiled teasingly.

Ever so eloquently, Connor replied, "Um, I…"

Dawn wasn't sure why, but she didn't like the way that was going. At all. "Hey, come on and focus, will you? Faux Cordy's lurking around here, and we have to find her. Stop hanging all over each other already, it's gross."

"I wasn't hanging off anything", Connor defensively replied.

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that", Dawn snarked.

"What, telling myself the _truth_?", Connor shot back.

"Shh! You guys, look!", Molly diverted their attention over to a railing.

Reluctantly, the two stopped sniping at each other long enough for them to see what Molly was talking about. There below, stalking about like a caged animal, was a dark-clad Cordelia, weapon-wielding and menacing.

"Is that her?", Vi asked.

Connor nodded, sullenly. "Yeah. It's her, alright."

Dawn gazed intently at the woman who just barely resembled the Cordelia that she remembered.

Gone was the long, flowing raven hair, replaced by a short, wavy bob, which was quite becoming of the former May Queen. The same, however, could not be said for her choice in wardrobe, a rather gross-looking, in Dawn's eyes, black dress that resembled a prostitute's idea of a moo-moo. Her once-sleek figure was now quite heavily pregnant, although one wouldn't be able to guess from the way 'Cordelia' slinked about, almost as if she was stalking wounded prey. She could see a meat-cleaver held tightly in her grip, her body language almost screaming for an excuse to use it.

But what caught Dawn most were her eyes.

Dawn remembered that Cordy used to have such a fiery, lively spark in her hazel eyes, a look that she often remembered seeing the debutant-ish cyclical member of the Scooby Gang use to burn holes right through Xander whenever they were fighting. It was a little known fact that those same hazel orbs could also make one feel comforted, relaxed. Dawn knew this, however. In the summer that Buffy had ran off after the Angelus debacle, Dawn had been very alone. Her now-late mother grieved over Buffy's disappearance and the Scoobies had taken to defend the town while dealing with their leader's absence in their own ways. Mostly, except for the attentions of her mother, who often required more attention herself at the time, Dawn was all but forgotten, left for herself to deal with the desertion of her sister.

Needless to say, Dawn was flabbergasted when the first one to actually make time and tend to her, make time for just her, was neither her wonderful Xander, nor sweet Willow, nor the fatherly Giles or empathic Oz, but rather the least likely, the vain, often self-absorbed Cordelia Chase. In the weeks that followed, when Cordy wasn't out fighting alongside her fellow Scoobies, she was right alongside Dawn. She would actually take time out of her busy schedule of shopping, Bronze-ing, and even cancelled a few dates with Xander, much to both their chagrins, to spend time with the youngest Summers. She would braid the younger girl's hair, shop with her, watch rental movies, and talk about boys (mostly how to get them to do anything they wanted), or sometimes, just talk about what Dawn was feeling, the sorrow she felt at having lost her sister. Cordy would even see Dawn off to bed, sometimes even staying late until she was certain Dawn was steadfast asleep. Her shiftless absentee sister, as it would be. And even though deep down, Dawn knew that none of this had…actually…happened, she could no shake the memories of Cordelia's surprising kindness. Such was the impression Cordelia left on Dawn that, for a little while, shortly after Buffy's return, she began singing praises of Cordelia constantly, much to Buffy's dismay. When Buffy had died the second time two years ago, Cordelia was the first of the Fang Gang to embrace her upon their arrival at Buffy's wake, offering condolences and rocking the young girl as they cried together. Dawn never forgot her kindness. Which was why the look in those eyes sent a chill up Dawn's spine. No longer where those eyes filled with vibrancy and spirit, but with malice, suspicion, cruelty. Not warmth, but icy calculation. Not empathy and comfort, but something black, foul to the core. All it took was one look and Dawn knew that this thing, whatever it was masquerading in her friend's skin…was not the Cordelia she knew.

"Yeah", Dawn said quietly, somberly. "Sure it is."

"So, what now?", Vi whispered.

Molly drew out her crossbow, locking it and cocking the arrow. "I could get in a direct shot from here. No sweat."

"No!", Connor hissed, pushing the weapon down. "You don't shoot until your time comes. We wait for everything to be in position, then we act."

"I was just musing", Molly said, frowning. "I wasn't gonna really do it."

"Keep your shorts on, William Tell", Dawn said calmly as she eyed Cordelia's movements carefully. "You might get your shot yet."

Connor took a sweeping glance at the bottom surroundings, carefully perusing every inch of the factory below.

"There", he uttered simply.

" 'There' where?", Dawn asked.

"Near the doors. By the right side", Connor motioned towards a large stock-pile of wooden crates, about 30 feet away from 'Cordelia'. "That looks like a good setup spot."

"Isn't that a little…close?", Vi asked apprehensively.

"That's the idea, Vi", Dawn replied. "I don't see any way they can get down there without being seen."

"There's a scaffold just up ahead", Connor said. "You two have to be as quiet as possible getting there. Stay low to the ground, and don't make a sound. Once you get there, climb down the ladder. There should be enough crates to avoid being seen. Once there, set up at whatever spot you feel is good enough to get in good aim or react quickly."

"Got it", Molly said, picking up her bag of weapons. "With this handy bag o' tricks, shouldn't be too hard to find a good shot."

"And guys, remember, if anything goes wrong, don't try to be heroes. The exit is just to the left. Run for help, and get to Angel's. They'll know what to do", Dawn instructed them.

"B-but…nothing's _going_ to go wrong", Vi said, trying to cover her anxiety with cheery optimism. "We know _exactly_ what we're doing and everything's going to come up roses. _Sunshine_ and roses, even."

Molly looked at her, a wry smile on her pretty face. "Feel better?"

"No, but I think someone had to be 'Glass-Half-Full' Girl", Vi shrugged.

"Well, it beats 'We're-so-horribly-doomed', any day", Dawn smiled sardonically.

"Hurry, we don't have much time", Connor said sternly. "And don't act until you get the signal."

"What's the signal?", Molly asked.

"When something goes wrong", Connor vaguely replied.

"How do we know when something goes wrong?", Vi now inquired.

"I'm thinking if you see either of us screaming, dying, bleeding or getting something cut off, there's reason for concern", Dawn answered. "Now get going. And good luck, guys."

"You, too", Vi replied sincerely. She glanced at Molly. "Ready?"

"No, but I'm going, anyway", Molly said, turning back to Dawn and Connor.

"Stay safe."

"You, too", Dawn nodded.

And with that, the two young Potentials crept away, staying low to the ground of the scaffold, as they headed towards the crates below.

Both Dawn and Connor watched as they slowly made their way down the stairs, sighing with relief as they made it to the crates, apparently undetected.

That left Dawn and Connor.

Alone.

Dawn was suddenly self-conscious of the boy's presence. Not like she was some wallflower, but…well, just look at him! He was all tall, and cute, and handsome and all demon-fighty braveness. Well, okay, so cute and handsome were pretty much the same thing, but that was besides the point. A girl couldn't help but get all dreamy-eyed looking at him.

Connor's stoic gaze kept focused on Molly and Vi setting up, observing Cordelia's movements as well. He hadn't spoken since they left.

Dawn suddenly found herself at a loss for words. Which had roughly about the same probability as Giles computer -cataloging all his musty books like a normal, twenty-first century librarian. She couldn't help but to feel a little flustered, suddenly. Why was it so hard now to start talking to Connor? Okay, so she knew that there were more pressing issues to attend to, like, say, making sure that Molly and Vi didn't get frapped by evil doppelganger Cordy. But would it kill him to say two words? A syllable? Anything?

Dawn, fumbling for something to break the unnerving silence between them, blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

"So", she chuckled. "Exciting, isn't it?"

Connor, incredulous, turned to look at her with a peculiar glance.

Her face flushed red, she looked at the ground. "Or not."

* * *

"Spell?", Angel asked, puzzled. "What kind of spell?"

Everyone was hanging on every word from Wesley.

"It appears…that there is a very powerful counter-spell that can be used", Wesley explained, as he began flipping though the next few pages of the Codex. "I've never seen anything quite like this before."

Now Willow's interest was piqued. "Really? Is it _that_ powerful?"

"Well, yes", Wesley replied as he continued skimming the words written in the dead language of Latin. "And also very…unconventional."

"Let me see", Giles insisted as he made his way over to Wesley, leaning in to read what he was reading.

"Giles? What's it say?", Buffy asked, getting slightly annoyed that she wasn't on the 'in' at whatever the two former Watchers were reading.

"Good God." Giles's eyebrows flew up as he realized what Wesley was so in awe over.

"That's a good 'Good God', right?", Fred asked, hopefully.

"Heh, good 'Good God'", Willow chuckled dorkishly, until she realized that everyone was staring at her. "Um…sorry, silly Willow moment. Go on."

"Apparently…there is a-a spell here, designed for a being to actually be able to enter into a possessed body via the means of a telepathic link." He cleared his throat before continuing, "There are a few specifics within the next few pages, but a-apparently, it seems that by using three beings, one as the infiltrator, one as a conduit and the other as a recipient, one can actually reach into a possessed being's inner most mental facilities, and, within a certain, undetermined time frame, it is possible to retrieve the recipient's true self, their soul, from within the invading body's workings."

"Is there an English translation to that?", Xander shook his head, confused. "Not English-English. Regular English."

Giles looked up at Xander, his face deadpanned, before simplifying. "It means that we can use two other people to get Cordelia's soul back."

"Oh…well, that's great!", Xander said, optimistically. Then he realized that this was usually the part where the big Catch-22 was revealed. "It _is_ great, right?"

"Huh? Oh, well, yes, of course", Giles nodded. "But there is a drawback."

Xander sighed. "And it begins."

"The spell itself is very radical", Giles explained. "The powers and forces needed to invoke the spell are…ancient. Highly potent. And, potentially, very dangerous."

"How much mojo are we talkin' here?", Kennedy asked, concerned. She knew that if it involved magick, odds were 2-to-1 that it would involve Willow.

"It…appears to be a very good deal of it", Wesley said, his eyes still trained on the book. "But I'm sure it's nothing that Willow couldn't handle."

Willow looked a little apprehensive as Wesley's calm gaze eyed her.

"Me?", she all but squeaked.

Although her confidence in the use of magicks was starting to slowly and steadily return to her, the little redhead was still quite unsure of her limits. Or rather, how far she could exceed the line between her true self and her evil, black-haired, blue-veiny self. The last thing this apocalypse needed was for one of the most powerful witches alive to plunge off the deep end again.

Buffy spoke up for her friend. "Whoa, whoa, back up a couple, Wes. If this spell is as strong as you say it is, then Willow might not be able to handle it."

Wesley eyed Buffy curiously. "Willow's skills with sorcery are renowned throughout the world. If anyone should be able to handle this, among us, it should be Willow."

"I hear that", Gunn said, beaming a smile at Willow. "From what I seen, Big Red can put a whuppin' on anybody with those skills. I heard she took on Evil Cordy and went toe-to-toe with her, no sweat."

"Yeah", Fred chirped up as she walked over and patted Willow on the back. "Willow can do anything."

Willow offered a faint smile at her friend's naive enthusiasm.

Giles cautiously stepped in. "Well, you see…Willow is, um, recovering from a very powerful…addiction to, um, m-magicks."

"Addiction? As in, fried egg, 'This-is-you-brain-on-drugs' addiction?", Lorne asked.

"Will went over the edge last summer", Xander explained. "Got hopped up on black magicks, people…died, and, long story short, she nearly made the world go 'ka-boom!', only without the cutesy cartoon cloud and add in gruesome, horrible death."

"Oh", Fred blinked in astonishment. She never would have thought of Willow as the 'Bringer-of-Death' type, she was so sweet and good. But the tiny Texan knew that the redhead was also incredibly powerful.

"So, uh…what stopped you from making the world go 'kablooey!' ?", Fred asked, curious.

"Yellow crayons", she said with a knowing smile, directed towards Xander, who grinned back at his lifelong best friend at the memory. Off Fred's confused glance, Willow replied, "Long story."

Angel turned to Buffy, his dark eyes asking silently is what he heard was true. With a sad, but simple nod, Buffy confirmed what he was hearing.

"Did this involve the…'flaying' incident?", Wesley asked Willow, referring to their conversation the last time she was in L.A., restoring Angel's soul.

Willow nodded meekly, the word 'flaying' bringing back the horrifying memory of Tara's killer, Warren, and his last moments before his skin ripped completely off his body, his agony unbearable, his death instant.

At Willow's hands.

Though a few traces of sympathy passed through his eyes, the ex-Watcher quickly hardened them, putting the present issue to the forefront. "Unfortunately, we don't have time to wait about for another alternative. Willow has the most power out of any of us here. She might be our only hope to get Cordelia back."

Buffy shook her head. "No, I'm not risking Will over a spell you're not sure of how powerful it is, or even sure will work-"

"It will work", Wesley said, his voice taking a more steadfast stance. "We don't have a choice. It _has_ to be Willow."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me about what choices I can or can't make", Buffy said, her voice low like thunder, a dangerous threat lingering in her voice. "I want Cordy back as much as the rest of you, but I'm _not_ jeopardizing one of _my_ family on some spell you found brewing in some…old magick _cookbook_!"

"This 'cookbook', as you so disdainfully put it", Wesley countered, ", is one of the most potent sources of magick known to mankind. This is war, Buffy. And in a war, chances have to be taken to win the day. The hard decisions, _sacrifices_, have to be made, whether we like them or not."

"Not with _my_ people!", Buffy snapped.

"With _all_ people", Wesley retorted, his voice cold, hardened. "It doesn't make a difference whom they belong to."

"It **does** to _me_! If you're so amped about this spell, why don't _you_ do it?", Buffy challenged, her green eyes glowing with a stroking fire. "Come on, I've heard about your skills with magick. I'm sure you remember _that_ much from the Council."

"I would do it if I could", Wesley explained, patiently attempting to keep the snappishness out of his tone. "But if this spell does what it's supposed to, then I won't be of much use. It needs a powerful conduit. And Willow is far more powerful, even in a weakened state, than I could be if I had _half_ of what she knows at my disposal."

"So you'll just…throw her to the _wolves_?", Buffy exclaimed, sputtering to try to find the right words. "What if that spell doesn't work? What if the side effects hurt her, or worse, what if they end up killing her? What if they change her back into the Big Nasty she was when she nearly deep-fried the world? Have you _thought_ about that?"

"It won't come to that", Wesley firmly replied.

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you", Wesley returned, still determined. "And unless you can come up with a better plan-"

"Oh, right", Buffy laughed bitterly. "You're just the 'Big Plan Guy', aren't you, Wesley?"

Wesley's eyes narrowed at her tone, his body stiffening slightly, a defensive reflex. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that you just put anyone and everyone you can up for the slaughter", Buffy snapped. "You just…put everyone else up for grabs, you don't give a damn who gets hurt!"

"That's not true!", Fred protested indignantly.

As if she didn't hear her, Buffy went on. "You haven't changed at all, have you? It's just like back in Sunnydale, when the Mayor kidnapped Willow, and wanted to trade her for that box. You were just willing to let Willow take the hit so you could hold on to that stupid thing."

"Thousands of lives were in the balance, just like they are now", Wesley retorted. "Granted, I was different back then, but I did what I thought I had to, because you couldn't. It's what I do."

"Just like you thought you _had_ to remove Angel's soul and bring back Mr. Happy-Go-Killing-Spree?", Buffy shot back, rage starting to slowly bubble over at his attitude. "Or better yet, just like you _had_ to steal Angel's son, and lose him to the psycho who raised him in _hell_ and made him hate his own father? Yeah, nice job there, Wes, because those ideas worked out _great_, didn't they?"

She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

Even more so as she saw the hardened façade of coolness that Wesley bore crack, his face etched in shock, his eyes reflecting a long-brewing remorse as he briefly cast his icy blue eyes to the floor.

Wesley had long tortured himself over the latter decision. Granted, he realized now how hasty the former choice was to remove Angel's soul in the midst of the 'permanent midnight' catastrophe. He had never forgotten how Angelus systematically played upon his vulnerabilities, his issues with his now-late father, his grievous shortcomings, his attraction to Fred, his struggles for acceptance and credibility. Or how the monster bearing his friend's face hadn't hesitated for an instant to fire a loaded shotgun at Faith, or nearly strangle Fred from within his own cage. And the image of Angelus, blood-caked mouth and all, feeding from Lilah's limp, dead body was an image forever seared in his mind. But that he had ultimately dismissed, with what Angelus having discovered about the Beastmaster proving pivotal in their discovery of 'Cordelia's involvement.

The latter, however, was something he could find no excuse for. He remembered the brave front he used when Angelus had mocked him over the loss of Connor to Quor'toth: _'He survived.'_ But that was all it was, a front. The pain that he had caused an innocent child, to Angel and those around him, those Wesley once considered…those he was closest to, was shoved back into far corners of his heart, but not so far as to bury them completely. For he chose to live with his guilt, his pain. To atone for what had done. For despite his own anger, his hardness and bitterness that had all but consumed him these last few months, there was a part of himself that believed that he had deserved everything that had happened to him, that he deserved to pay. Deserved to suffer. Ironically, he had begun to understand but a piece of what Angel himself had to endure all the days of his immortal life. Wesley would only have to endure his suffering until the end of his mortal one.

At the look on his face, Darla instinctively moved to him, offering a gentle hand on his arm. But Wesley, lost in his own thoughts, barely even noticed.

In the midst of the uncomfortable silence that filled the hotel, Xander looked perplexed at all of this. "Um, Stupid Question Guy with permission to speak…what the hell is she talking about?"

Lorne gave him a cautious glance. "Long, tragic story, Slim. One that best not be rehashed here, or now. Or ever, actually."

Angel felt a part of him want to say something, speak up on behalf of his old friend. But another part, a bigger part, held back, and, God help him…was actually satisfied with Wesley's guilt. He had tried long and hard to move past that, mend a gradual bridge of trust back between them, but every time he saw Wesley, he would think of Connor, both as a small, tiny infant and as a confused, troubled teenager. Whatever was left in the middle was lost, something that he would never see. Because of what Holtz did. And part of that, however noble the intentions were, was Wesley's fault. Because of his betrayal, Angel lost his son's childhood. Connor lost his chance at a normal childhood. And a part of Angel could simply not trust Wesley again, nor forgive him for that. Perhaps the latter never would come.

Buffy stood in shock, amazed at the words that had flown from her mouth. She hadn't meant for it to come out that way. She just wanted to make her point, look after her friend. She hadn't intended to lash out at Wesley for something that she knew wasn't totally his fault. Angel had told her about the false prophecy that Sahjahn had planted. Wesley was only trying to protect Angel's son, not hurt him. But he did. And she knew by the look on his face now that it was something he was still coping with.

Still paying for.

"Oh, God", she breathed, regretfully. "Wes, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Yes, you did", Wesley cut her off, the hardness returning to his eyes, the traces of raw human emotion vanishing almost at will, slipping behind a mask of emotionless detachment, hardness, logic. His second skin. "But, regardless of my previous...track record...I stand firmly by my belief. Willow is the key. Without her, we are lost." He paused. "_Cordelia_ is lost."

At that, Willow's bright green eyes glinted with resolve. "Then give me everything I need. I'll do it."

Buffy turned to her best friend, concerned. "Will, I don't know-"

"_Willow_. No", Kennedy said harshly. She didn't like the idea at all.

"I'll be fine, don't worry", the witch assured her. "I'm about 95 percent sure I can handle it."

Anya wasn't so convinced. "And, what, 5 percent sure that you'll go evil brunette and start flaying people?"

"I won't", Willow replied, firmly.

"We don't know that! _You_ don't know that!", Kennedy exclaimed.

"She's right, Will", Xander said, standing up. "You're still recovering, we don't want you to regress back. The last thing we need is 'Dark Phoenix'-you to make a return visit. There might not be any coming back from that."

"Well, actually, Dark Phoenix's powers are more sun-based", Andrew started to go into geek mode. "In X-Men edition 258, Professor Xavier discovered that she was a more photosynthetic-derivating being, whereas Willow-"

"I swear to God if you don't zip it, Andrew, I'm going to shove edition 258 so far up your 90-pound ass, you'll be sneezing word bubbles for the next week and a half!", Buffy snapped, her patience running thin with the goofy nerd.

Andrew gulped, sitting back down. "Got it. Shutting up now."

"Look, you guys, I'll be fine", Willow insisted. "I-I know you're all worried, but I'm getting stronger now, really. I mean, hey, who teleported everybody 200 miles out here?"

"Well, yeah, sure, but it took a lot outta you, Red", Faith pointed out, not exactly crazy about the idea, herself. "You're not in shape yet. You sure you're up for this?"

"I guess I'll have to be", was her reply.

"But this spell could be dangerous", Buffy argued. "It's too risky."

"She's right, Willow", Angel said, his eyes focused on Willow. "You're not just Buffy's friend, you're my friend, too. I'm not risking anyone else I care about on something we're not sure will work…even if it is to help Cordy."

"That's exactly why I _have_ to do it", Willow insisted. "Because it's _Cordy_."

"As strange as it is to admit it, I'll have to go with Dead Boy on this one", Xander sighed. "Will, it's bad enough we may have lost Cordy, we can't lose you, too-"

"Okay, just _shut up_ and _listen_ to me, _okay_?", Willow said, her usually soft voice suddenly tight with determination. "Xander, think about it. This is Cordelia. The girl we grew up with in kindergarten, the same girl we founded the 'We-Hate-Cordelia-Chase-Fan-Club' over when we were 7, the same girl who risked her neck, even gave up her social life to help us out in junior and senior year of high school, even when she didn't have to, even when she knew it would probably get her killed." Her eyes grew wistful. "The same girl we both hurt that night in the factory…"

Xander, despite himself, flinched at the memory of that fateful night, when Oz and a horror-struck Cordy found Willow and Xander in each other's arms in Spike's lair. He could still remember the look of horror, and pain on her face, of betrayal. And the terror he felt when she fell, impaled herself on that spike, how the light in her tear-stung eyes faded, as she passed out that night, seemingly dying…He shook the thoughts from his head, focusing back on Willow.

"We _owe_ her this, Xander", Willow said, adamantly. "_I_ owe her this. And I know that we didn't all end on good terms, but Xan…" she faltered slightly. "It's…_Cordy_."

Considering her words, Xander gave it one moment…and nodded. "If you think you can handle it…do it."

"Thanks", she smiled at him with soulful green eyes.

Angel watched in amazement. He had known that the Scoobies were traditionally protective of their own but he hadn't anticipated the fierceness and loyalty that they were showing for Cordelia. That Willow, recovering addict from dark magicks, would throw her own personal well being aside to help her old friend, their friend, that Xander, the poster boy for steadfast stubbornness, would actually consent to this plan, knowing the risks to his best friend, to everyone else around her, casting aside his old grudges, his reservations…it brought a warm reassurance to Angel. He wasn't alone. He had help. He had friends. Friends who cared about Cordy as much as his family did. And friends who would do anything to save her.

"Um, hate to break up the warm-and-fuzzies, but what if she's wrong?", Spike chimed in. "What if Red looses it and starts goin' Susan Atkins on the lot of us?"

Willow turned her gaze directly towards Wesley. "Then I'm trusting you to do what…needs to be done."

Wesley stared at the little redhead, the veiled implication not lost on him, before nodding slowly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that", the Watcher replied.

"Does it really matter?", Skip snorted. "You people have no idea what's taken over Cordelia. You think some 'Speak-and-Spell' magick trick is gonna make a difference?"

Faith regarded the demon curiously. "Funny, Mr. Roboto, but if I didn't know better, I'd say you're startin' to sweat some serious nuts over there."

Skip glared at Faith, to which Faith responded with her trademark cocky grin.

"Oh, please", Skip scoffed. "Are you people actually serious? There's no way! Nothing has the kind of power you need to save your friend. Heck, the only thing that would contain even a remote possibility of juicing that kind of power would be in the Bysilline Codex! And that book is long go-"

The demon's words hung unfinished as Wesley and Giles, coolly regarding the demon, flipped the book's cover over so the demon could see the blood red book with the golden stag emblazoned on the cover.

And the demon's sentence turned into a dismayed, "Aw, crud."

"Great", said a suddenly chipper Spike. "So, we got our spell. That means all we got to do is get Red over there to do the 'bippety' and the 'boppety', then 'boo' the Nameless Wonder out of Cordelia, mission accomplished, world saved, and we're out of this miserable town, right?"

Giles eyed the vampire warily before continuing. "I'm afraid it's not that simple, Spike."

Spike smirked wryly. "No, of course not. Silly me for thinkin' it. Wherever there's the pouf, there's bound to be a hidden clause or two. Of course, given your little Gypsy soul problem, you'd know about complications, wouldn't you, Broody Pants?"

Angel glared contemptuously at the younger vampire, fighting every instinct to reach for the stake tucked into his pocket. "I imagine you would, too, given that you cause most of them wherever you go, Spike."

"Now I _know_ you two aren't starting your little 'My-Fangs-Are Bigger-Than-Your-Fangs' pissing contest when Cordy's life, not to mention _my_ _sister's_ and Connor's, are in the balance!", Buffy warned.

Both vampires warily glanced at the blonde Slayer, hands on hips, her beautiful face hardened into a cold glare. The reluctantly backed off, but shot each other dagger-like glares as they did.

"So, what's the holdup?", Xander anxiously said. "We have Willow do the spell, Cordy comes, Big Bad goes, hurrah for us, right?"

"I'm afraid it's a little more…difficult than that", Darla said, swiftly avoiding using the word 'complication' for fear of igniting Round Two of the 'Angel v.s. Spike' series. "In order to perform the spell, we're going to actually need Cordelia, or whatever that thing is walking around like her, to be present."

"So, we find your friend, drag her here and do the spell", Wood shrugged. "I don't see the problem."

"Except for the part where she's hiding in a city with a good 6 million people and tons of buildings, sewers, and other spots that she can hide in", Gunn chimed in. "Nice suggestion, bro, but not gonna be easy."

"Plus", Faith added. "Not meaning to be the bearer of doom and gloom, that's Spare Parts Boy's job", her eyes ticked to Skip. "But if 'Cordy' is really that hard on about hatching her nest egg, what's to say that she won't kill herself before we have the chance to take it away for her, taking the real Cordelia with her?"

"It won't come to that", Xander said emphatically.

"Oh, no?", Anya challenged, her eyebrows raised. "Think about it. This thing had no qualms about killing thousands of people just to get to well into her third trimester. Raging hormones aside, what's to stop her from turning that homicidal energy into suicidal if we come in and go all 'Operation Sting' on her?"

"Anya's right", Buffy said. "So we can't let it come to that. We have to find her, and fast. Odds are, the sooner we find 'Cordelia', the sooner we find Connor and my soon-to-be-grounded-forever sister."

Angel whirled to Skip. "How do we find her?"

Skip stayed silent for a moment, hesitating. _They're getting close…_

"_How_?", Angel repeated tersely.

Skip shrugged, careless. "Well, I'd go with a Bu'shundi ritual but you're going to need a sacred Hutamin paw for that, and-"

"Got it!", Lorne piqued up as he leapt to his feet and made his way to the office area.

Skip was in total disbelief. "_What_?"

Lorne explained, "Cordy— the _real_ Cordy— kept one in her desk drawer."

He walked over to Cordelia's desk and began rooting through the drawers. Lucky him that Cordelia was too busy being outside (and evil) to notice, or else he would've been in a mess of trouble.

Skip scoffed. "Probably a knock-off. It's not some trinket you throw in a desk draw-"

But his smug expression turned to one of shock and dismay when Lorne pulled up the Hutamin paw, a tiny furry hand with claws, from the drawers.

Lorne allowed himself a brief chuckle. "She thought it was a _back scratcher_."

Buffy, Willow and Xander shared a look between them, small smiles thinking back to when they knew her in Sunnydale High. _Typical Cordy_, was the thought they shared between themselves. Funny how the more a person changes, or was heard to change, the more they remained the same. In some ways, given the circumstances, that was a comforting thought.

Angel, having smiled briefly in relief, turned to Wesley and Giles. "Get started. Lorne, give them a hand. Willow-"

"—will also lend her hands. On it, Big Guy", Willow breezily smiled.

"Darla?", Wesley turned a questioning, and almost hopeful, gaze to the blonde ex-vampire.

"Of course", Darla smiled and nodded. "I'll be glad to help."

Buffy frowned as she folded her arms across her chest, appearing reluctant. "I dunno…you guys sure you can trust her?"

"She was, ah, actually quite helpful in our last round of research", Giles offered. "Perhaps it would behoove us to have her presence near."

"And she is quite human, I can assure you", Wesley said, his voice working to keep the strain out. He was getting weary over Buffy's concerns against Darla.

Sighing, Buffy relented. "Fine. Just go, see if you can finish your game of 'Where's Cordy?' quickly as you can."

"No problem, Buff. Besides, I remember when I was 9, I used to be really good at that game", Willow chuckled, before adding. "Oh, wait…that was 'Where's Waldo?', I forgot."

Lorne smiled. "Well, come on, Berrylicious, let's see if we can find the needle in the L.A. haystack."

And with that, the group began their way back into Wesley's study.

Buffy nodded. She looked up at Angel. "Good. Then we should saddle up, get a rescue team together."

"Great minds", he smirked.

"Guess so", she smiled back at him. "Spike, you and Faith keep an eye on the Tin Can Man over there. I want muscle here in case he gets loose."

"Always up for a little violence", Faith practically purred.

"Same here", Gunn smiled down at Faith. "I'll stick around, too, help babysit Rust-Face. Fred?"

"Sure, why not?", Fred shrugged. "S'not like he's _goin_ anywhere, anyways." Gunn was a little off-put by her non-chalant behavior, but opted wisely to say nothing.

"What can I do?", Wood asked.

"Stay here with the rest of the gang", Buffy said. "If you can, round up the girls, take them somewhere they can, I dunno, train or something. But with quick access exits."

"You should use the downstairs hall on the left", Angel jumped in. "Plenty of side doors, should lead them right out in case trouble happens."

"I'm on it", Wood replied casually.

"Me, too", Kennedy jumped up, turning a smug glance at Buffy. "I'm always up for training the others."

Buffy fought back the urge to snap at Kennedy, who was so obviously using this as a way to undermine Buffy's authority. But the Slayer had other issues to attend to that were far more critical than a pretentious Slayer-wannabe trying to stick it to her.

Buffy nodded. "Good. Andrew?"

Andrew looked up at her with wide, hopeful eyes that he may be entrusted with some sacred, important duty.

"Kitchen", she instructed. "Cook…something." She was mostly hoping to keep him busy and occupied so as to get him out of the team's hair.

"Oh", he said, deflated. "I…can do that." He looked at Angel. "Got any Flan?"

Angel looked at the boy strangely, before murmuring quietly, "Top left kitchen cabinet. Behind the brown sugar."

"Thanks", Andrew smiled excitedly before hurrying off to the kitchen.

Off Buffy's odd glance, Angel shrugged. "What? I like…Flan."

"Could this get any weirder?", Xander deadpanned.

"We better get started", Buffy said, shaking the image of a Flan-eating Angel out of her head. She had enough craziness to deal with already.

"Wait a tick, love", Spike protested. "I oughta be in on this whole search-and-rescue, shouldn' I? And I'm already familiar with L'il Bit's and the Pouf's kid's scents. Vamp senses would help track the bird faster."

"That's why _I'm_ here", Angel said brusquely. "You're better off staying here in case Skip busts loose."

"Maybe _you'd_ be better off here, Peaches", Spike tartly retorted. "This is _your_ bloody house."

"But _I_ know L.A.'s sub routes by heart. _You_ don't. _You're_ staying", Angel reminded him, his voice patronizing, but firm. Commanding.

"You think I'm gonna let _you_ tell me what to do?", Spike shot back, refusing to back down. " This ain't like old times, I'm not one of your flunkies you can just order about, you ponce!"

"Who you callin' a flunkie, Popcorn Head?", Gunn growled.

"Was I even _talkin_ to you?", Spike scowled at Gunn.

A glowering Gunn was up and in the slightly smaller Spike's face. "You're talkin' to me _now_, and unless you want to be spendin' quality time in the inside of a _dustpan_, you'll be _apologizing_ to me now."

"Charles…", Fred tentatively tried to keep the peace, placing a hand on her ex's bicept.

"Little uppity, ain'cha, mate?", Spike smugly taunted. "Angel, haven't you housebroken 'im yet?"

"Hey, hey, hey, come on", Faith said cautiously as she inched closer to the two men. "Let's be all civilized here-"

"Wanna say that _again_, Snagglefang?", Gunn challenged, his rage flaring as he bumped his chest hard into Spike, who growled before he balled his fist and sent it flying.

His fist stopped short of Gunn's face as Buffy's cast-iron grip held fast.

"Spike", she started tersely. "This _isn't_ up for discussion. You're staying here with Faith and the others. And you're going to play nice with everyone else! Is _that_ understood?"

Spike's hurt gaze looked between Buffy and Angel, before he scowled, shaking loose his fist from her grip. "Oh, I see how it is", he said. "You leave me here watchin' the Metal Mouth while you go off makin' time with your Dark Prince of Ponces, then? Give him all the credit for being the big strappin' hero while I'm stuck here being an over glorified babysitter?"

"I need you here", Buffy responded, her voice slightly gentler. "You're one of the strongest we have and you might be the only one who can protect the others in case Skip gets out. I'm counting on you."

Although her words mollified him slightly, one look at Angel standing just behind his darling Buffy and Spike felt the jealousy clench his muscles.

"Fine. I'll stay", he sighed loudly. "If he gets out, I'll just visualize Angel's face on his body, then."

"Good. Pretend. That'd be the closest you'd ever come to beating me up, Spike", Angel sniped.

Spike seethed. "Listen, you-"

"Hey." Faith came up and tapped Spike on the shoulder. "Come on, Bloody. Just chill and sit with me while we watch Steel Toe over there. We can trade stories, swap cigs…it'll be fun."

Spike thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, suddenly the prospect of guarding Skip in the hotel sounding quite appealing. "Well, then, hope you got a full carton on ya, luv", Spike sighed, managing a faint grin at her. "I'm suddenly got the urge to light a few out like a chimney."

"You know me", Faith grinned mischievously. "I'm always fully stacked."

"Don't have to tell me twice", Spike waggled one of his eyebrows, drawing a small chuckle from Faith.

Buffy looked uncomfortably at the interaction between the blonde-haired vampire and the dark-haired Slayer. She leaned into Angel, and whispered, "Am I the only one here who's extremely wigged out here?"

"Oh, good, I thought _I_ was the only one for a minute", Angel said in a hushed tone.

"I want to come", Xander called out abruptly.

His outburst stunned all of them . Buffy was shaking her head. "Xander, I don't-"

"Buff, hear me out", Xander cut her off. This was something he had to say. "Look, I…I know Cordy. Grew up with her. And okay, granted, maybe we don't exactly have the best personal history together, I still know her. There's still the chance that somewhere in there, that same 5-year old girl who chased me around the kindergarten swings trying to kiss me, that same girl I spent time trading insults, and jibes, and…eventually spit. The point is…she's in there somewhere. You guys don't know that side of her, 'cause you didn't grow up with her. _I_ did. I was able to reach Willow back when she went all apocalyptic, remember? Who knows…maybe I can…"

"Get sliced and diced like a piece of Mozzarella cheese?", Anya blurted out incredulously. "Xander, whatever's in her now, make no mistake about it. She's not the girl you dated, and cheated on, and who dumped you…she's evil. Pure, unadulterated. Evil. What can you do?"

Xander's eyes flashed for a moment as he turned back to his ex-fiancée. "Ahn! Not being helpful."

Anya glared back, her arms folded petulantly across her chest, her tone dripping with sarcasm and, hinting, a little bit of jealousy. "No. Just being practical. One of those things you _claimed_ to love about me."

Buffy laid a hand on Xander's shoulder, meeting his eyes sympathetically. "It's very sweet, Xander. But I can't risk putting you or anyone else in danger. Maybe…maybe you're right, maybe the real Cordy is in there somewhere…but no one's been able to reach her. For now, we're just going to have to assume that she's gone. For now, anyways."

Xander opened his mouth to protest, but Buffy held up her hand, gently. "We'll get her back. I promise."

Sighing, the young man hesitantly nodded. He had trusted Buffy for years, and her word was almost golden. If she said she was going to get back Cordelia, then he knew that not even Hell itself would be able to stand in her way.

"Okey-dokey", Xander whistled. "I, uh…I guess I'll just go help the future Slayers Corps of America get settled in."

"Good", Buffy nodded. She looked back at Angel, trying hard to keep the softness out of her business-like stare. "Conference? Plan out our strategy?"

"Sure", Angel nodded in agreement, before turning back to the rest of the group. "The rest of you, you know your assignments", he briefly informed them. "Let's get started."

And with that, they departed into Angel's private study together.

Skip, suddenly extremely nervous, began to excitedly call out to the departing heroes, "Uh, wait! Did I say _Bu_-shundi? I meant..._Ru_-shundi. It's-it's a whole different…"

But he saw that no one was buying it. And as he turned to see Spike smirking wickedly at him, Faith glaring at him coldly, Gunn burning a hole through him, arms folded across his chest, Fred staring icily, Wood regarding him oddly with one raised eyebrow, Kennedy scowling at him, Xander letting out a distasteful 'tch' and Anya shaking her head in disgust, he could only think of one word to sum up his current state of conditions.

"Crap."

* * *

Molly sat coiled in a corner, only a faint shaft of light entering from a hole no bigger than her fist.

Hidden well from sight, Molly had chosen this spot for its obscurity from site, its proximity to 'Cordelia', and the closeness to the exit. She was the portrait of concentration. Eyes locked on her target. Crouched on one knee, holding steady. Crossbow firmly in hand.

And wincing as she glanced over to her rather jumpy partner-in-crime.

"Would you _please_ stop biting your fingernails? That's _disgusting_", Molly quietly scolded Vi, without so much as looking up.

"I don't understand how you can be so calm at a time like this", Vi whispered. "She's standing right there, not a few feet away, with a meat cleaver, and you've gone all 'Focus Girl' on me."

"Hush, will you? We'll be fine", Molly said, her level eyes keeping trained on 'Cordelia', her fingers steadily holding the crossbow. "Just make sure you're ready to go if you have to."

"You mean…if you _miss_", Vi snarked. She couldn't help it. She knew that Molly took a great deal of pride in her bowmanship.

Molly shot her an icy glare. "I. Don't. Miss."

"O-kay", Vi sing-songed, just to get under her skin. Sometimes, it was just too easy.

The British girl sighed impatiently. "I think I preferred you when you were feasting away on your cuticles."

"Oh, come on, Moll, humor me", Vi cajoled her. "Besides, for all we know these might be our last moments on Earth together."

"Don't talk like that", Molly sternly said. "We'll be fine. Everything is going to work."

"Sure", Vi said, unconvinced. "Because it's not like we haven't done this before, right?"

"Dawn and Connor will handle it", she reassured her. "I'm certain they have everything under control."

"Molly, they're just as new at this as we are", Vi countered. "For all we know they're probably getting carved up into little bity pieces right now."

"Vi, just stop getting your knickers in a twist", Molly argued. "Dawn's got a…decent plan so far. You have to take stock in the fact that Buffy, a Slayer, is her sister. And Connor's quite powerful. They know what they're doing."

"Looks like you got quite a bit of faith in those two", Vi observed.

"They've let us this far", Molly said, turning to glance at her friend. "And they've kept us safe. I'm sure that whatever happens from now, they'll be ready for it."

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready for this?", Connor asked her, one more time, his own nerves starting to jump.

Dawn nodded. "Uh-huh." Though she was quite more afraid than her looks would betray.

"I'll protect you, I swear", Connor said gently. "I won't let her hurt you."

Their eyes met, and Dawn felt a bit more calm. She didn't know why, but she trusted him…and somehow she knew that he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"Okay", she said softly.

Nodding, Connor tugged on the ropes binding her wrists. "Keep your head down", he instructed.

He pulled her down the hallway, into the meat-packing building's center floor. Dawn made a good show of struggling and whimpering as she was led down into the room.

She peaked through her long hair, kept down to the floor, to see Connor stop about a good six feet in front of a figure dressed in black.

"How DARE you show your face around here again, you little bastard!", she recognized Cordelia's voice hiss. She winced at the venom laced in her voice, the hatred.

"I…made a mistake…", Connor began, his voice slightly wavering. "You were right…about everything…my mother's a liar…she hates me, you, our baby…she wants to kill it. But I won't let her. I won't let anyone. I'll make it up to you, Cordy, I promise."

"Really?", 'Cordelia' snorted. "And what makes you think I'll just take you back in, boy? Why shouldn't I just kill you right where you stand?"

At that, he shoved Dawn hard to the ground between them, the girl letting loose a frightened cry as she hit the floor, face-first.

Connor flashed an evil sneer. "Because I've brought an offering."

'Cordelia's' shock melted away into a cold, sinister smile.

* * *

To Be Continued…

Next chapter: Time's ticking away as Cordelia's life hangs in the balance. Can our heroes stave off the peril long enough to survive? Will Buffy and Angel arrive in time? As they grow closer to LA, how will Linsdey, Oz, and Whistler's arrival shake things up?

Next chapter: Time's ticking away as Cordelia's life hangs in the balance. Can our heroes stave off the peril long enough to survive? Will Buffy and Angel arrive in time? As they grow closer to LA, how will Lindsey, Oz, and Whistler's arrival shake things up?

BTW, Lindsey fans/Oz Fans / Whistler fans, sorry, I was gonna add them in this chapter, but I thought that their scene would make more sense later on. But next chapter, guaranteed, Lindsey, Oz and Whistler will be there! Do not despair!

See ya,

Jean-theGuardian


	14. Part 12 The Dealing Devil

Author's Note: Greetings, All! Well, after two years, I am happy to report that, yes, I am still in the world of the living, and yes, I am still committed to finishing this story even if it kills me. You know, part of the problem that's been keeping me from finishing this fic is largely, life interruptions. In '03, there was my mom's hospitalization, then the homeless thing, then in '04, it was grueling work schedules, then in '05, I had this bout of depression, and last year I was simply too busy with career stuff to entertain anything else.

But now, the time has come for me to do something I probably should've done from the start.

I am officially looking for a BETA-reader.

Any kinds will do. Grammar, content, character critique, continuity…just remember, I'm open to suggestions, and I can take criticism quite well, but please don't be too pushy. Not a big fan of that. I'd kinda prefer that anyone interested has actually published a fic here (completed or otherwise), but, then again, if you think you're an expert on a particular character or 'ship, then by all means, write me.

If you're interested, or just feeling brave, e-mail me at hotmail. com - guardianshaven is my email addess

NOW…the moment 2 years in the making, the latest chapter of…

* * *

Bring Me To Life

Part 12

The Dealing Devil

* * *

"Yeah, I understand you're upset, Dev", Oz talked into his cell phone as he was speeding down the empty interstate highway.

"No, no, I'm not ditching on you guys", he explained. "Well, okay, I sort of am, but I'm not, you see? No, look…something just came up…there are some things more important than the band, Devon…like personal stuff, okay? Look…okay, I'm sorry I didn't call…No, I don't know when I'll get back…I'll try to make it back by next week, but…Yes, I get that the record exec's gonna be upset…Dude, just relax, okay?…Okay, okay, Dev, you're breaking up, yeah, signal's getting pretty bad…might have to-"

And with that, Oz shut his cell phone closed.

"So, how'd he take it?", Whistler non-chalantly asked.

"Well, considering that this could be the break of a lifetime for him next week, and the band's missing their lead guitar, I'd say he's got a fairly good reason to want to take a fountain pen to my chest and do his best Joe Pesci in 'Goodfellas' impersonation", Oz calmly replied.

"Ooh, sorry 'bout that, kid", Whistler winced.

The young werewolf sighed. "He'll get over it."

The half-demon ventured, "Unless you want to turn back around-"

"No", Oz's mellow voice suddenly sharpened, his eyes steeling themselves in a flash. "It's L.A. or bust, if it's Willow that needs help."

"Good attitude to have, kid", Whistler nodded approvingly.

"'Specially since we're not about to turn around for nothin' or nobody", Lindsey said from the back, cocking the barrel of one of his shotguns. "Which hopefully, means there'll be no more little hitchhiking stops on the way. Right?" His eyes leveled a calm, yet deadly serious stare at Whistler.

"First and last, Mac D", Whistler said, holding up his right hand in an unusual shape of a Boy Scout salute. "Scout's honor. Like Teen Wolf over here said, it's L.A. or bust."

Lindsay grimaced in annoyance. "Okay, let's get a few things straight, Munchkin Man", he icily replied. "First off, don't _ever_ call me that again. I'm not a giant red-haired clown with big red shoes. Second, you got the hand signal all wrong, dumbass. I should know, seeing as I was once a Scout myself. And third, we've been traveling for about three hours now, and you still haven't told us jack-squat about what exactly we're going up against here. Except for the part where the most powerful evil force known to mankind is to blame, the vampire who made a mantle piece out of my right hand is in over his head, and somehow, Darla's involved. Now, are you gonna make with the debriefing, or am I going to have to squeeze you until those beady little eyes pop out of your tiny little skull?"

Whistler took a moment to regard him. "Gee, really feeling that warm, friendly hospitality all you Midwest folk are so world-famous for."

Lindsey looked as if he was about to lunge for the half-demon, when Oz swiftly intervened.

"Uh, why don't you start telling us what this is all about, Whistler? Before Lindsey makes like a bubble and bursts?"

Whistler sighed. "Okay, here's the deal…" He broke off for a minute, then chuckled as he turned back to Lindsey. "You were really a Boy Scout?"

"Whistler", Lindsey's voice strained out of his mouth.

"You've all heard about the wave of wickedness going down in La-La Land, right?"

Oz nodded. "Heard on the news. Rain of fire, sun disappearing…"

"Yeah, yeah, we've been over this", Lindsey snapped. "But what's the source? And what does Darla have to do with-"

"Hey, hold your hat, Tex, I'm getting' there", Whistler calmly responded. "Okay, so all this is going down, and, of course, our heroes at Angel Investigations answer the call. Trouble is, they're way in over their heads and get their asses whipped faster than a rookie club fighter on 'Fight Night' at MSG. Same time, we go a few miles up north to a sleepy little slice of suburban Americana known as 'The Hellmouth.'"

"Sunnydale", Oz instantly replied.

Whistler nodded. "Correct. Turns out that the Slayer, Miss Buffy Summers by name, and her pals are in a similar situation, only the main opponent is the one and only First Evil. Pretty much the ultimate end-all, be-all supervillain. The source."

" 'Source'? Source of what?", Oz asked.

"Evil", Lindsey replied. "I've got a copy of the files at Wolfram & Hart right here." He read aloud, "The First Evil, origin unknown. Appeared just before the dawn of time, claimed responsibility for the very foundation of the concept known as 'evil'. It's last known appearance was Sunnydale, circa Christmas Eve, 1998. Tormented Angel to the point of near-suicide. Motives unknown, seen as potentially valuable ally, but remains classified as Level 5 threat to operations."

"On a scale of…?", Whistler motioned for him to continue.

"Five", Lindsey replied, not turning his eyes away from the files.

"Threat?" Oz scrunched his eyebrows. "Now, wait, from what I've heard Angel say about Wolfram & Hart, you guys were pretty much in the business of evil. So, if this thing's the source of evil, then shouldn't you guys be, I dunno, teeing off at a golf course, or power-lunching or whatever?"

In spite of his impassive glances between his road partners and the files, Lindsey felt irked at Oz's association of Wolfram and Hart and himself. He hoped to have left that part of his past behind him for good when he sped off to Clarity two years ago. He hoped to have washed himself clean of that blood-soaked chapter of his life. Yet even now, when he was rushing off to fight an apocalypse, possibly to his own doom, he could still not shake the specter of the evil law firm from his life.

"That was ideally the case", Lindsey answered. "But from the firm's initial dealings with it, over three millennia ago, the First was…uncooperative."

"Exactly how uncooperative are we talking here?", Oz asked.

Lindsey thumbed through the pages of the file. "It sent the firm's first emissaries to it back, with their hearts in hand. Literally. The next few were sent back, strangled by their own entrails. The last one sent to negotiate actually came back alive, but with his eyes melted in his sockets, mumbling something about 'fading lights', 'walls closing' or 'balls of fire', or some drooling indecipherable rant."

"Hmm", Oz noted. "And I heard Donald Trump could play mean hardball."

"Of course, Wolfram & Hart aren't the type of people who take 'no' for an answer", Whistler smirked.

"Right. So, an all-out war erupted between both sides as a result of the First's actions, a war that lasted for over a thousand years", Lindsey continued. "But a costly stalemate forced the Senior Partners and emissaries of the First to work out a formal cease-fire and draw up a non-aggression agreement. This was about 2000 years ago, the signing actually coinciding with the birth of Christ. Since then, an uneasy truce has been held between both parties. Mostly, though, since a lot of the agreement managed to limit the First's actions on this plane, the Senior Partners have been able to turn the majority of their attentions to other dealings."

"So, the First was actually strong enough to force Wolfram & Hart into a stalemate situation", Oz reflected, impressed.

"The First Evil's resources are nearly endless", Lindsey explained. "Same with Wolfram & Hart. Matched up head-to-head, the power difference is very nominal. But the First's power has increased on its own in the last few centuries, though not nearly enough to attract the concern of the Senior Partners."

"What the files won't tell you", Whistler chimed in, "is that the Powers that Be have been monitoring the situation from a distance. Or that the First has, in secret, been constantly looking for a way to break the accord. Or that, through a carefully played-out chain of events stretching from the cosmos to the Higher Planes to Earth itself , not only did the First find a way to breach the agreement, but also a way how to increase its power beyond all of its expectations, or that of any of its foes, for that matter."

"Wait a second", Oz scratched his head, puzzled. "Why would the most powerful evil entity in the world have to look for a way to break an agreement? It's the First Evil. Couldn't it have just…I dunno, ripped up the contract or whatever?"

"When Wolfram & Hart works a contract, it's never a typical signing", Lindsey responded. "All sorts of legality clauses, fine print, ancient magicks, older than the birth of language, and a legion of very powerful demonic shamans were involved with this pact. It was literally a 'binding' agreement, both in the legal and mystical sense, between both parties. Neither side wanted to take the chance that the other would back out on their word. But the Senior Partners' main concern was making sure that the First's forces were held in check on this plane of reality. The consequences for either side backing out of the agreement, once signed, would be catastrophic."

"And the magick was powerful enough to force the First to find an alternate route of getting the power it needed to overrun Earth's plane", Whistler said. "And sure enough, it found one."

"But Wolfram & Hart have been paying up-to-the-minute detailed attention to the First's moves since the agreement", Lindsey argued. "There's no way that the First could've pulled something off on this plane without the Senior Partners having known of it."

If anyone would know about that, it would be Lindsey McDonald. Among his many talents, he was also one of the leading authorities, maybe _the_ leading authority, on the Senior Partners themselves. Upon entry in Wolfram & Hart, Lindsey dedicated years of his life to studying anything & everything about the law firm. Few beings on this plane of reality had more knowledge of the firm, first-hand or otherwise, than he.

"Think about it, MacDonald", Whistler smirked knowingly. "Who said that the First's moves had to be just limited to this plane of reality?"

Oz realized what Whistler was implying. "I'm guessing that it took to shopping way out of town for its goods."

"Try outta this cosmos, Ozzy", Whistler said. "In order to get the drop on us, it had to go up top. Way up top. So high up that nobody, not even the Senior Partners could see it coming."

"The Higher Planes", Lindsey realized, eyes widening in realization. "That's where it went."

"Well, that's where it _looked_", Whistler corrected. "Remember, the First, for all of its power, can't just float into the Higher Planes like grease through a fat guy's arteries. Those planes are owned by the Powers That Be, who, let's face it, are way up on the food chain in terms of power. But what's to say that it couldn't send something up there to pinch-hit, so to speak? Something that would completely obey its bidding, yet something that was so seemingly insignificant that it would just slip past the Powers' radar?"

Oz's eyes lit up in understanding, quickly processing what Whistler had said. For all of his silence and laid-back approach to life, Oz's intellect was quite amazing, almost on par with even Willow's renowned brain power.

"That's why you're here", Oz said. "The First used someone...or something…to infiltrate the Higher Planes on its behalf, and that violated your bosses'…boundaries, your property lines, whatever, so the Powers want to strike back at it."

"Oh, there's a lot more at stake than that", Whistler replied. "If the First is allowed to get what it wants, the big guys won't be the only ones whose lawn gets stepped on. Every reality, every planet, hell, every single-celled speck of nothing may be up for grabs here. And as good as Angel and Buffy are, even combined, they may not be enough to stop it this time."

"So, how do we come in?", Lindsey asked. "Aside from waiting for a full moon, making annoying comments and legal advise from an ex-lawyer-turned-grocery-store-clerk, what makes you think we can make any amount of difference other than being first in line to take a fatal wound or two for the team?"

"Look, trust me", Whistler said. "Some of it is on a need-to-know basis, but trust me when I say this. You guys have your own parts to play in this drama. That's why the Powers sent me to get you, that's why we've got to make it to L.A. in one piece."

"How soon do we have to make it there?", Lindsey asked, his eyes still fixed on Whistler.

"As soon as possible", Whistler answered.

Lindsey wasn't satisfied with the answer. "Which is?"

Whistler took a look at his watch. "About another three hours."

At that, Oz shot him a wary glance. Lindsey, whose temper was on ends ever since their journey began, snapped.

"THREE HOURS?", he shouted, furious. "We're not even halfway down Oregon yet, and you expect us to make it there in three hours? What kind of stupid, idiotic-"

"Relax", Oz spoke up as he reached upwards and flipped several toggle switches just above him. He reached over on the car console, lifting away a small metallic tab, which revealed a thumb-sized red button.

"What are you doing?" Lindsey asked, suspiciously.

Oz gave him a brief look back. "Remember when I told you that I knew a guy who gave me this car?"

"Yeah?", the ex-lawyer replied.

"Well", Oz continued, turning his eyes back to the road. "Let's just say that he had some very deep connections in the U.S. military. This was a going-away present from him to me. A government military armored personnel carrier prototype. It combined simple civilian camouflage with steel-reinforced armor plating, state-of-the-art tracking and navigational systems, automated combat defense mechanisms…and something really cool."

Whistler raised an eyebrow. "No kidding."

Oz motioned to the button. "This button activates a high-speed velocity booster system. A new kind of speed system that the U.S. military's been experimenting with. Supposedly, it can make this van do its best 'Warp 5' imitation. We're talking sound barrier-breaking fast. It should be able to get us to L.A. in about two-thirds the time it would take other vehicles from this distance. "

"Have you tried it before?", Whistler asked.

"Haven't gotten around to it", Oz shrugged. "But there's a ninety-five percent chance of success rating to it, at least, that's what the guy told me."

"And the other five percent?", Lindsey asked, skeptically.

Oz looked at him, his voice deadpanned. "We blow up."

_Well, isn't that special? _Lindsey stared at him, his eyes staring in disbelief. "You know, I actually liked you up until this point."

Whistler, despite the situation, couldn't help but to laugh. "Come on, Mac", he looked at Lindsey. "Can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."

At that, Lindsey sighed, defeated. True, he wasn't thrilled of being a guinea pig in a crash test simulation. Especially when that test could end with his being blown into the next lifetime. But, he was in no position to look for other alternatives. They were six hours out from their destination, time was of the essence, and there were people who needed them.

_Darla_ needed him.

And for her, he would move mountains…

Or, possibly, suffer fatal 3rd degree wounds.

The young man grumbled. "Yeah, well…at least if we blow up, I'll die with the knowledge that Whistler went first."

"Stop it, McDonald, you're making me blush", Whistler quipped, an amused expression on his face.

Oz sighed, glancing up at his good luck charm. Hanging up by the rear view mirror, dangling by a string, was a Pez Scooby Doo dispenser. He briefly allowed himself a smile as he thought of the amazing young woman who gave him that trinket. At the very least, if that five percent did kick in, the last thing in his thoughts would be his Willow, her green eyes sparkling with warmth at him.

"Guys", he said, as his finger hovered over the red button. "If you haven't buckled your seat belts, or said your Hail Mary's, I suggest you do it now. Things are about to get pretty…trippy."

As Lindsey held his breath and Whistler mumbled a few silent Rosary's to himself, Oz had only one last thought before his hand descended on the red button.

_Oh, the things we do for love._

* * *

About 20 minutes earlier…

_Dawn was yet again mentally smacking herself for her speaking gaffe. _

'_**Exciting, isn't it?' Oh, yeah, real smooth, Dawn. Very not retarded**__she inwardly groaned__**But then again, it's not exactly like Connor's being all Joe-here's-what-I'm-thinking. **_

_She gazed back and forth between the sight of Cordelia, popping in and out of the rooms, and Connor, who keenly watched her every move. At the moment, the only thing on Connor's mind, from Dawn's perspective, was Cordelia. Not like that was such a bad thing, considering that they were there to save her, and, well, to kick her ass. Or, at least, kick her evil, hatchet-crazy, sluttish-dressing, world-conquering doppelganger's ass. _

_But, come on, would it kill him to say at least one sentence to her? Two words? A syllable? A grunt? _

_Anything? _

_Grumbling to herself, Dawn reached in her pocket for an Oreo cookie, wrapped in the boxed 6-piece package. She couldn't help herself. She was a junk food fiend. Buffy was always on her case about eating healthy and what-not, but come on, who could really resist the mouth-watering, crunchy cookie goodness that was the Oreo cookie?_

_As if on cue, a light bulb went up in her brain. _

"_**Cookie**__?", she whispered to Connor, as she offered her half of her own Oreo. Staring at her for a moment, perhaps in fascination, perhaps in annoyance, Connor shrugged, taking the cookie half._

"_**Mmm. Good**__", he nodded, as he took a bite-full of his half. "__**You like these, too**__?"_

"_**Well, duh**__", Dawn grinned. "__**Two halves of chocolaty crunchy cookies melded by a center of creamy white stuff? Who could resist**__?" _

"_**These were one of the first things I ate in this dimension**__", Connor mused, thinking back to those confusing first days in L.A. Some parts were good, but overall, it was an experience he preferred to forget. However, there was one experience that, thinking back on it, made him chuckle. "__**I…remember that the first time I ate an Oreo was from this…vending machine**__."_

"_**Uh-huh**__", Dawn nodded, but not quite understanding what Connor found so amusing about something so routine._

"_**But**__", he chuckled some more, "__**It was the first time I ever saw one of those, right? I mean, up until I came here, all the food I ever had, I've had to catch and kill, not take out of a container. So, I just thought by pressing the buttons that I'd just get the food out. So I pressed the button. Nothing happened. I kept pressing some more buttons, and I kept pressing and pressing, but nothing happened. So, finally, I get so mad that I just…pick up the stupid thing right off the hinges and just trash the thing**__."_

_Dawn's eyes widened, and she almost laughed incredulously. "__**You didn't**__…"_

"_**Oh, I did**__", Connor smiled. "__**And then, I'm all proud of what I did, so I come inside with all the junk food I could possibly carry and I come inside with a big, stupid smile on my face, and I'm all, "Look, dad, I found food inside a big metal box!**__'"_

_Dawn had to muffle her giggle; it was all she could do from laughing hysterically. "__**Oh, my God**__", she breathed. "__**Oh…oh, that's classic! Angel must've looked at you like you had two heads**__."_

_In an instant, the smile faded from his face, replaced by a slightly more bitter expression. _

_Dawn could tell immediately that she struck a nerve. "__**Um, Connor, are you alri**__-"_

"_**My fa…Angel wasn't there when it happened**__", he said. "__**The man who raised me was. The only other man I call 'father**__'."_

_Dawn hesitated. "__**What was his name**__?"_

_Connor closed his eyes, swallowing hard before he spoke. "__**His name was Holtz**__."_

_Simply uttering the name brought back conflicting feelings. Love. Resentment. Loyalty. Anger._

"_**Holtz**__", she repeated softly. "__**Was…was he the one who**__…?"_

"_**Took me to Quor'toth**__?", Connor finished for her. "__**Yeah. The same**__."_

"_**He kidnapped you", **__she realized__**. "He took you away from Angel."**_

"_**He tried to save me!", **__he quickly responded, defensively. Then, realizing what he was saying, he replied more quietly. "__**What he did was…wrong. But I understand why he did it. He was hurt. My father… killed his family. Long ago. His wife. His daughter. His infant son. All of them."**_

_Dawn's eyes widened in surprise at Connor's revelation. __**"You mean Angelus did, right?"**_

"_**Does it matter?", **__Connor asked, a scowl returning to his face. __**"Whether or not is was with a soul or without one…it doesn't make them any less dead. Holtz was lost. Nothing left to live for. At least with me, he had the chance to live his dream. Have a family. Or something close to it. I can't hate him for that…not completely, at least."**_

_Dawn looked down awkwardly, unsure of what to say. _

"_**Wow…and here I thought I had father issues**__", she faintly smiled._

_At that, Connor turned to her. He didn't like talking about himself much, especially since most of his life, from his vantage point, sucked. "__**And you? What's your family like? I've already met your sister…and her fist.**__"_

_Dawn chuckled slightly. It was good to see that even after all the glowering and the brooding, Connor did indeed have a sense of humor. _

"_**Well, come on**__", Connor managed to smile. "__**What's your family like? Mother? Father?**__"_

_Dawn's eyes lowered slightly. Her smile faded into a sadder glance. "__**My mother…she was the best. But she was very sick and she…died two years ago. My sister came home **__**and found Mom dead on our couch. Life hasn't been the same since**__."_

"_**What was she like**__?"_

_A smile came to the young girl's lips. "__**She was…warm and sweet. She had this…smile that could make everything you would worry about just go away. She never judged anyone; she could always see the good in something bad. And when she held you…it's like there was no place in the world that was safer than her arms**__."_

_Connor smiled wistfully. He suddenly found himself picturing his own mother. Even though he barely knew her, there was something so soothing, so calming about Darla. How could he help to do anything but love her?_

"_**And your father**__?"_

_Dawn's smile faded and a bitter, hard look crossed her pretty face. "__**Let's just say he wasn't anything like her…or your dad**__."_

_She struck a little too close to home. "__**Is that such a bad thing**__?", he asked, that harsh glare resurfacing on his face once again. "__**At least your father wasn't a murderer**__."_

"_**And at least yours is still in your life**__", Dawn shot back. "__**I haven't seen my father since I was 9. He missed every birthday, every report card, and every single second of my life in between. He didn't even come to visit us when Mom died. He had his **__**secretary**__** send us **__**flowers**__." _

_Connor was taken aback by that. Dawn seemed like the kind of girl he pictured growing up with a mom and a dad and siblings, like those postcards he had often seen in the windows of those Hallmark stores in L.A. He never could have imagined that her father would have been so cold as to have completely cut off ties with his own children, his own family, let alone someone as wonderful as Dawn. Granted, his own dad may not have been what he wanted out of a parent, but at the very least, there was a part of Connor that registered the fact that in spite of everything that had happened between them, Angel did seem to care for him. Perhaps, even love him. _

"_**That's…that's awful**__", Connor managed to say. _

_Dawn sighed, taking a moment before turning her blue eyes back in Connor's direction. "__**Look, I can't pretend to understand everything about what happened between you and Angel, so I'm not gonna. But the fact that he's still there in your life, it says a lot. It's more than you'll know. So, my advise to you? Get to know him. The real him, not whatever you've drawn up from other people. Take this from a girl whose lost practically her entire family. Once they're gone…they're gone**__."_

_For Dawn Summers, that was a statement that held its weight in stone. In spite of how Buffy would always try to protect her, to shield her from the harshness of the world, even the Slayer could not stop Dawn's world from collapsing around her. Her mother, her father, Tara, even Buffy herself, for a little while…all were gone. Either dead, or uncaring, or too overwhelmed to find time to be there for her. It wasn't hard to guess her worst fear: being alone. _

_Connor took that advice into thought. It could happen, he supposed. Granted, he knew that Angel would never grow old, never die the normal death that humans would endure. But he was only as immortal as one piece of wood through the heart, or a few seconds of sunlight or a lucky slice to the head from whatever Creature-Of-The-Week he seemed to always be tracking down. Just because he _could_ be around forever didn't mean that he _would

_Both teens looked down awkwardly, unsure of what to say next._

"_**What…what's Quaker Oats like, anyway**__?", Dawn asked. _

_Connor forced down a smile that threatened to come from her mispronunciation of his birth world. "__**Quor'toth**__", he replied, before somberly describing his former home, "__**is like…well, picture this world. Only the sky's always the same. It's both bright red, like the fires of hell, and pitch black, like the bowels of nothing. There are things there; demons that make vampires seem like plush toys. The very air you breathe is thick, full of ash, and noxious gases. There's no sun. There's no ocean. No stars. No clouds. No light. No hope**_

"_**Every turn you make, there's something there, waiting for you. Waiting for food. And when you sleep, there's always something you hear moving. Something screaming. Something eating. And every moment that passes, you wonder if it's your last**__." He looked away from her. "__**Quor'toth…is hell**__."_

_Dawn was speechless, her heart breaking after hearing his story. She couldn't even begin to imagine that such a place to exist, let alone being forced to grow up in such a horrible place. And to think that poor Connor had to grow up in a world like that…_

"_**Oh, God.**__" She shook her head, stunned. "__**Connor**__…"_

"_**Wanna hear the twisted part of it**__?", Connor bitterly laughed, though he could feel his eyes start to slightly mist. "__**Sometimes, when I lie awake at night…I…I sometimes wonder if I really belong in this place. In this world. I mean, son of two vampires, right? Maybe I can't fit in this world…because I wasn't meant to. Darkness is the only thing I've ever known, my whole life. Maybe the darkness is where someone…some…thing…like me really belongs. Maybe the darkness is the only place I can feel like home because…that's where…**__**freaks**__**…like me…really belong**__." Cage's taunting words still rung in his mind. Still cut him to the bone. Because, deep in his heart, there was a part of Connor that knew that it was true._

_He was a freak. Always had been, always would be._

_Acting as if by natural feeling, Dawn reached out and took his hand. _

"_**Hey**_", _she said gently_. "_**You wanna talk 'freak'? I'm a make-believe girl made up of glowing green energy. My 90-pound sister can bench press, like, a thousand pounds over her head, and my friends are a lesbian Jewish Wicca, a neutered vampire, an unemployed Watcher who used to be called 'Ripper', a millennium-old, money-hungry, ex-man-killing demon, and a guy who once dated a giant preying mantis. Not to mention, Vi's got weird fashion sense, Amanda's a band geek and Molly's…well, British. So, trust me when I say, I know 'freak'**_." _Her eyes softened as she held Connor's gaze. "__**You're not a freak, Connor. You're just…unique."**_

" '_**Unique'." **__Connor snorted bitterly__**. "Another way of saying 'different.' Saying…freak."**_

_Dawn shook her head__**. "No. Connor, that's not what I…" **__She sighed. How could she make him understand?__** "You're…okay, take the Oreo cookie, right? On the outside, it's different. All the other cookies would look at it and say, 'weird'." **__She paused, considering the scenario__**. "That is, if cookies could, you know, talk, which would be gross because then you'd be eating, like, animals instead of baked dough products."**_

_Connor frowned__**. "So, you're saying I'm an animal?"**_

"_**No!", **__Dawn blurted out quickly__**. "God, no."**_

"_**Then I'm like a cookie?" **__His confusion was evident by the bewildered look on his face._

"_**This sounded so much better in my head", **__Dawn groaned__**. "Look, an Oreo is all…layers and stuff, right? Weird, kind of crusty looking on the outside. But on the inside, viola! Gooey, creamy center that no one can resist." **__She smiled softly at him__**. " And, well, that's kind of like you."**_

_Off the surprised look on his face to perfectly match his blush, Dawn realized how that sentence may have sounded, and felt her face redden with embarrassment._

"_**Um, uh…what I mean is…" **__she stammered as she fumbled for the right words__**. "Okay, so you're the son of two undead creatures-of-the-night. So, you grew up in a place that makes South Central look like Beverly Hills. So you've got all that super-strength, and super-speed, and super…everything. But cut that all away and dig beneath the layers and what's left?"**_

_She reached with her free hand, placing it over Connor's chest, just above where she could feel the '__**thump-thump', 'thump-thump**__' of his heart beating against the warmth of his chest. _

_Dawn took his hand with hers, placing it just above her own chest. The boy could only stare, mesmerized, as he felt the beating of her heart against his hand. And at that moment, nothing ever felt more beautiful, felt more right than to feel that warm sensation melting against the coolness of his touch._

"_**See that? Not so different**__." She tightened her grip on his hand. "__**You're just like me**__."_

"_**Like you**__?", he echoed, his voice just above a whisper._

_Dawn grasped his other hand. "__**Like me. We're the same, Connor**__." Her round blue eyes met his, unable to pull away from the draw of his icy blue eyes. "__**We're the same**__."_

_Without realizing it, their heads began to draw closer, their eyes lost in one another's gaze, their lips close enough to feel the breath from one another. Dawn felt her breath catch as she tilted her head upwards to him, while Connor could hear his own heartbeat pounding as he closed his eyes, pulling closer to her…closer…closer…_

_WHAM!_

_They jumped back as if lightning struck. They turned their heads to the floor below, where 'Cordelia' had re-entered the room, her eyes suspiciously scanning the balcony. _

_Dawn almost yelped in fright, but Connor, moving swiftly, seized her, muffling her mouth with his hand as he pulled her down, his body covering hers as the darkness hid them from sight. _

_His enhanced senses could hear her heart pounding wildly, smell the scent of fear seeping from every pore in her being. The two teens watched as 'Cordelia' slowly, predatorily scanned the tops. _

"_**Be quiet**__", he instructed Dawn, his eyes focused on 'Cordelia', wary of her every move. _

_Dawn could only nod, her small frame feeling almost crushed by the way Connor threw his weight on top of her so suddenly. _

_They held their breaths as 'Cordelia' stalked with painstaking sluggishness, taking a few moments extra to quell her suspicions…_

…_and then, satisfied, turned around and left the room._

_Sighing in relief, Connor removed his hand from Dawn's mouth. "__**That was close**__."_

"_**Yeah**__", Dawn whispered. Her eyes, however, rested on Connor. "__**But this is closer**__."_

_Connor's eyes turned back to her, staring in embarrassment. Only now did he realize the intimate closeness of their situation, as their eyes were locked, her chest heaving up and down gently against his frame, the warmth of their bodies melding into each other. _

"_**Connor**__?", Dawn whispered raspily. _

"_**Yeah**__?", the boy answered back, his breath quickening._

"_**You're crushing my ribs**__", Dawn said, her voice slightly straining. _

_Connor's face reddened. He quickly backed up and off her body, suddenly glad that he could get out of that situation before Dawn could notice the growing…embarrassment of the situation._

"_**Sorry**__", he apologized. "__**Didn't mean to be so rough**__."_

"_**S'okay**__", she said, rubbing her tender ribcage. "__**Looks like fake Cordy's getting a bit antsy, huh**__?"_

"_**That's the problem**__", he frowned. "__**I know her. As soon as things get too hectic, she'll go running off to wherever she thinks is safest. That means we're running on borrowed time**__."_

"_**Then we have to act now**__", Dawn replied. "__**We can't risk her running away. If she gets lost, in L.A., we'll never find her in time**__."_

"_**But what can we do**__?", Connor asked. "__**We can't risk a full-on attack. Too much could go wrong. I can't put your lives at stake**__."_

_Dawn scrunched her eyebrows in thought, looking around, trying to think of something that would give them a hand. Her wandering eyes caught a rat scrambling across the other side of the factory. She watched with morbid curiosity as the rat slowly inched its way to where a piece of cheese was sitting idly…on top of a rat trap. _

'_Gross' was her immediate reaction._

_SNAP!_

_And then the light bulb lit up in her brain._

"_**Bait**__!", she nearly exclaimed. _

_Connor looked at her. His face was one big question mark._

"_**She wants a sacrifice, right**__?", Dawn elaborated. "__**Young, virginal, female…that's me right down to the bone**__."_

_Connor's eyes widened in shock. "__**What?"**_

_Dawn let out an impatient sigh. Somehow, she figured he would react like this. What was the big deal, anyway? They needed a plan, and she came up with one. It's not as if they had time to draw blueprints or whatever. "__**It's the only way. Look, you'll go up to her, use me as a sacrifice, only a fake sacrifice, and when her guard's down-"**_

"_**Dawn, you're crazy**__!", Connor hissed. "__**If we get that close to 'Cordelia', there's no guarantee that I can keep you safe. You could get hurt. Or worse**__."_

"_**Connor, listen to me**__", Dawn said. "__**We've gotten this far. And we are **__**not**__** leaving this building without Cordy. We may be the only chance left at getting her back**__."_

"_**This isn't a good idea**__", he shook his head. "__**I can feel it**__." That he could, all right. His instincts were well-honed in Quor'toth. And they were flaring with warning right now. This plan…it just didn't feel right._

_She placed a hand on his arm. "__**I trust you, Connor. I know you'll keep me safe if things get too rough**__."_

_He grasped her hand tightly. "__**No matter what happens, I'll protect you. I won't let her hurt you**__." _

_Noticing the third instance of close contact between them in the last 5 minutes, the two teens abruptly, almost shyly, pulled apart. _

"_**A-and besides, we've got Molly and Vi in position to do some major damage**__", Dawn pointed out, gathering her bearings. "__**We'll be done in no time. No pain, no gain, right**__?"_

Dawn lay on the floor, shaken from the unexpected force behind Connor's hard throw.

Even though she was much tougher than her frail-looking body would give to suspect, still, being shoved to the ground by a preternaturally strong teenage boy could smart like the Dickens.

Above her, she heard 'Cordelia' gasp in delight.

"Oh, Connor!", she smiled, breaking slightly away, but clutching his forearms as she did. "Don't you see? This changes everything. Now", she said, her voice morphing back into that sweet, tender quality Connor was all-too familiar with. "Now, we can have our baby…and you can have the family that you've always wanted. You'll get to be a father, and I'll get to mother your child. Our child. Together." She reached up and tenderly stroked the side of his face, her touch soft and gentle.

Had this been about a day earlier, Connor would've melted underneath that touch, his will dissolving underneath that warm hazel-eyed gaze. But Connor was a day wiser now. He saw the wolf in sheep's clothing, and was determined not to let himself slip under her spell so easily this time. Especially since it was Dawn's life that depended on his decisions.

No, this time, it would be 'Cordelia' that would have the wool pulled over her eyes.

"Together", he repeated, swallowing. "Right."

"Let me have a look at her", Cordelia said as she reached out for Dawn, who was now panicked that once her face was seen, their cover would be blown.

"No!", Connor forcefully said.

A startled 'Cordelia' jumped back, her eyes regarding Connor with surprise, and some suspicion.

Realizing his mistake, Connor quickly replied, "Um…I mean…you've been through a lot. A-and…we should get that ritual started again, shouldn't we? Who knows how long it might be before my father finds us?"

At that prospect, 'Cordelia' shot him a worried, cautious glance. "Were you followed?"

"No, we were clean", Connor reassured her.

'Cordelia' breathed a sigh of relief. "Good boy." Her hands reached up and tenderly cupped his face, her hazel eyes softly gazing at him. "You're right. I need time to re-prepare the ritual."

"Then get everything ready", Connor said, returning his gaze to Dawn, who still faced the floor. "I'll stand watch."

"I trust you'll keep everything…under control?", 'Cordelia' inquired, her gaze measuring him evenly.

"I'll keep things safe", he responded calmly.

Nodding, the temptress whirled on her heels and strode back into the factory's main floor, preparing the ritual for her 'child's' conception.

Once his super-sensitive hearing detected that she was out of earshot, he bent down to check on Dawn.

"Are you all right?", he whispered, concern draping his face.

"I guess", she nodded, before slightly wincing. "Although butt bruisage feels imminent in the morning."

"Sorry", Connor flushed. "I…I just wanted to make it look real."

"Yeah, well, my shiny new bruises should be a good testament to that", Dawn snorted, not noticing how Connor flinched when she mentioned her bruises. She peered up at him, whispering. "Think she bought it?"

Connor nodded. "She's buying it. I can tell."

Dawn tilted her head to the right to see 'Cordy' sitting in the other room, candles lit around her, swaying back and forth, her eyes shut as she silently chanted some archaic language Dawn couldn't understand.

"What's she doing?" she asked Connor, perplexed at her behavior.

Connor remembered full well what happened, or what almost happened, to Anna after 'Cordelia' finished her bizarre ritual. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten Dawn. He could be frightened enough for the both of them.

"Preparing the ritual", he answered, recalling the last time his 'mate' acted this inexplicably. "Once she's done, she'll come back in here and…" he hesitated , for once, choosing his words carefully. "…ready the sacrifice."

He chose his words carefully so as not to scare Dawn. He remembered full well what happened, or what almost happened, to Anna when 'Cordelia' finished her bizarre ritual.

But Dawn was no fool. She knew exactly what Connor meant. After all, this wasn't the first time some evil force wanted to spill her blood before.

Dawn swallowed. "Meaning me."

Connor looked away, not wanting to answer that.

"How long does that take?", Dawn asked as she swallowed down a lump of fear in her throat.

After a beat, Connor answered. "About 10, maybe 15 minutes."

Dawn Summers remembered that feeling all too well; that inescapable sensation of panic, of helplessness, of knowing that her fate was completely out of her hands, that her life was nothing more than a chess piece waiting to be knocked down. She could easily close her eyes and hear her heart pounding, her knees shaking like fluttering leaves on a blustery fall night, the silent prayers muttered under her breath, the tears of terror sliding down her cheeks. Glory's maniacal laughter ringing in her ears, her lips curled into a pitiless sneer, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent, as her drone-like, sycophantic minions readied her for the blood-letting ritual that would have returned Glory to her former home…at the cost of Dawn's life. Not to mention the lives of every existing creature in all the realities. And how it would have if not for Buffy's last minute heroics.

"You okay?"

Her eyes darted back to Connor, and in that moment, she was reminded that, unlike with Glory, she was not alone. Connor was here, as were Molly and Vi. And she knew, she had to believe, that they would do everything in their power to keep her safe when the time came.

"F-Fine", she stammered slightly, trying to form an optimistic smile, one which was not the most convincing, before she summoned up a small ounce of composure that had yet to escape her. "Um…you think you can stall her?"

He glanced back and forth from Dawn to the focused, chanting 'Cordelia'. "I think I can buy us some time."

"Like a _day_, maybe?", Dawn asked, hopefully.

Connor chuckled dryly, then managed a grim nod. "Well, maybe a few more minutes. In the meantime, just keep calm, and make sure you're ready to move."

"Oh, I'll be ready alright", Dawn nodded, checking the bonds.

Without realizing it, Connor's hand glided slowly to her face. It was a simple action, tucking back a stray lock of auburn hair and tucking it behind Dawn's ear. But the contact alone was enough to draw her attention, drawing her eyes to his. Suddenly self conscious of his proximity (and of how cute he looked even in dim lights), her cheeks reddened. Connor's breathing became shallow as his eyes swept reverently over her face. Twin sets of blue eyes met in a gaze so deep and penetrating that, for a moment, it was as if they were staring into each other's souls. They were drawing closer again, and his nose filled with her scent, like liquid candy, sweet and intoxicating, her lips tingling in anticipation, their faces only separated by a sliver of air…

"Connor!" called out 'Cordelia' from the other room. "Could you help me in here?"

The moment broke around them, much to their dismay. Connor, grimacing in sour displeasure, called back, "Just a minute!"

Dawn swallowed back a smile from her lips at the priceless expression on Connor's face. "You'd better go", she weakly offered.

"I'm sorry", Connor muttered, casting his eyes back to her, a shy smile fighting to appear on his face.

Now Dawn did smile. "Don't be."

* * *

Faith was bored.

And when she got bored, she usually tended to fall back on one of his more infamous habits: bugging the crap out of others.

And she was only too happy to begin her ritual on an entrapped Skip.

"Sweet! Ten points", Faith smirked as her penny ricocheted off of Skip's mystical cell, causing the energies surrounding the demon to violently sizzle and angrily crackle.

"Hey! Knock it off!", snapped the metallic minion. "Some of us are trying to think, here!"

"Gee, wouldn't want to disturb the whole 3 seconds it takes you to do that, now, would we?", Faith replied, a Cheshire Cat grin forming on her blood red lips.

Skip grew more irritated by the minute. "You know, pissing off angry demons can be hazardous to your health. Especially a demon that doesn't plan on being stuck in this little play-pen for much longer. "

"Said the minion-in-question to a Slayer", Faith snorted. "I've taken out bigger and tougher than you in my day, Nickel Face. You wanna tango? My dance card's wide open. Until then? Make like an oyster…and clam up."

She flicked another penny off his cell, sending violent sparks to vibrate all around the infuriated minion.

"Ten bucks says I can piss him off so bad those little red veins start popping in his eyes again", she laughed as she turned to Spike.

However, the blonde vampire seemed distant. Quiet.

Faith cocked her head, observing his odd behavior. "Right after I start taking off my top and performing a live strip tease with Willow."

Spike broke out of his distant fog, facing his companion with wide (and suddenly very attentive) blue eyes.

"Works every time", Faith smirked.

Spike sighed, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. "Sorry 'bout that, pet. Guess I was just…"

"A million miles away?" the dark-haired Slayer finished for him. "Better focus some of that energy while we've got Spanky over there locked in his little cell."

"Yeah, and what a riveting assignment this is turning out to be", Spike groused, folding his arms across his chest. "Watching Aluminum Boy toss us a snark or two while he's just standing there like a bloody scarecrow" his knuckles growing whiter as he spoke. "…meanwhile, the Nibblet and the mini-Pouf are skating 'round L.A. playing 'superhero' while we got two unspeakable Big Bads looming on the horizon and the Apocalypse is right around the bend!"

"And the fact that Buffy asked you to be a benchwarmer completely overrides that fact that she chose her ex-squeeze toy to be the go-to guy in this sitch, right?", she smiled, knowingly.

Spike turns and scowls at Faith, but she stares back unafraid, smirking even, as those gorgeous brown eyes questioned him like the headlights of an interrogation room.

"It's not like that", he said, but too quickly to believe. Too quickly to believe it _himself_.

Faith's smirk never left, her right eyebrow cocked slightly. "_Sure_ it isn't."

"You are in _dangerous_ waters, Slayer", Spike warned.

"What can I say?", Faith chided. "Never been much for the Kiddie Pool."

"Alright…", Spike sighed, trying to choose his words carefully. "Maybe…there was…see, the thing with Buffy-"

"Hey", she held up her hand. "Preaching to the choir. I get were you're coming from."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "_Do_ you?"

"Well, yeah", Faith shrugged, with an understanding gaze. "I kinda went through a phase like that with Angel."

Now Spike sat up, fully attentive. Surely, she didn't mean what he _thought_ she did. "You mean…you and Angel-?"

"There _was_ no me and Angel", Faith corrected, sighing. "I kinda wished it sometimes, don't get me wrong. I mean, you stew in an all-female correctional facility for 3 years and your only friend happens to be this tall, dark, sensitive and ridiculously handsome dude who, on top of that, is the only being on God's Green to think you're even worth two anythings? How could you _not_ have a crush?"

Spike met her eyes, dead-panned. "Somehow, I think I'd manage."

Faith chuckled, swatting his arm. "You know what I mean, smart-ass."

"And again, here we go back to your peculiar obsession with my ass", Spike smirked. "Well, not peculiar. I mean, it _is_ one fine looking ass, if I do say so myself."

"Yeah, whatever", Faith chuckled as she rolled her eyes. Though, she did admit, if only to herself, that he was right. "Getting back to the point", she continued, "I'm just saying I understand that whole 'unrequited love' deal."

Spike could barely believe what he head. "Wait, wait….unrequited-"

"Yeah, it took me a while to get over the whole 'Buffy-Angel' dynamic", she sighed, wistfully. "I mean, hey, never exactly been the poster girl for healthy and long-lasting relationships, but…they're good for each other, you know? I could get how it'd be hard to get over the Buffy crush-age. She's like cat-nip to guys…short, skinny, blonde, _snippy_ cat-nip, but catnip no less, and-"

"It was more than that." Spike stared at her, his next words conveying their meaning. "A _lot_ more."

Faith's eyes widened as she let out a surprised laugh. "_No_…don't even _tell_ me Little Miss Tightly Wound's been getting her _naughty_ on!"

Spike sighed, ruefully. "Not of late."

"Bad ending?"

Spike's mouth formed a grim line. "Least on my part it was."

"Man!", Faith slapped her knee, laughing. "_What_ is with that girl and boinking the undead?"

"Hey!", Spike gave her a stern look, but added a wicked grin. "Don't knock what you haven't tried."

"Oh, yes, and God knows what I'm missing", Faith retorted, her eyes feigning pensive thought. "The romantic feeling of cold, clammy flesh on mine, the sensual sensation of my fingers on those freaky, rock-solid, ridged face wrinkles, and of course, the ever-pleasurable knowledge that a snack for said vampire lover is only one bad hickey away."

Spike's faced soured as he glared at Faith. "Never heard Buffy complain about it", he grumbled.

A question formed on Faith's lips. "Does Angel know…?"

"About me and his 'one-true' doin' the horizontal tango?", he smirked. "Don't know, don't much give a piss."

"So…what?", Faith inquired, trying to be as subtle as possible. "Are you…like still making a play for her or…?"

The question lingered in the vampire's mind. It was a question that he'd been pondering for some time, now. He put himself through unimaginable hell for her, all for her, so that he could be worthy, in her eyes…so he could be the kind of man that she deserved. And that was quite the tall order, because Buffy Summers deserved better than the best. She deserved…perfection.

Yet, Buffy hadn't touched him since he had his soul restored to him. He'd been too busy being insane, then under the thrall of the First, then kidnapped and tortured…too much had happened in the middle of this mess for him and Buffy to have a real heart-to-heart on where they stood. About his new soul, what it meant, what it meant, for him, for her, for them…if there was even a 'them' to be talked about. But the question was _never_ far from his thoughts.

"Maybe. Dunno, really." Spike sighed. "Don't suppose there's much stoppin' me, now, is there?"

Faith snorted. "Sure…except for the six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered, super-strong, slightly possessive guy who knows, like, a hundred fighting styles in the same room with her."

Spike smile falls, a dark glower morphing on his face. "I'm _not_ afraid of Angel."

Faith wasn't buying it. "Even though he could probably tie you into a pretzel knot before he makes an ashtray into your new permanent residence?"

He felt himself bristle a little. He was William the Bloody, damn it! His name was feared around the world, had been for over a century. His name was synonymous with painful death and destruction. The thought, the mere notion that someone else thought that he could play second fiddle to an ape like Angel…

"You don't think I could take him?"

"I don't think _anyone_ could take him", she waved her hand, dismissing the notion. "Not if he was _really_ trying to beat you."

Now it was Spike's turn to snort. "You've _obviously_ never seen me get down and dirty, luv."

"Who knows?", she flashed a smile that at best, could be considered flirty, at worst, outright lascivious. "If a girl plays her cards right…"

Spike's surprised look at her comment turned to a soft, yet incredulous laugh. He didn't know why, or what, but there was some strange energy, some connection, some…spark between them that refused to be ignored. It wasn't burning white hot like the passion he shared with Dru, or the fire that Buffy ignited in his heart…but it was real. Warm, humming, glowing in anticipation.

Faith surprised herself a little. True, she was never exactly a wallflower, but she hadn't taken it upon herself to blatantly flirt in a good long while. She knew she never really _had_ to, the way _she_ looked. Guys came to her, and she picked them at her own choosing. And yet, she found herself openly flirting with a stranger whom she barely knew and a _vampire_, no less (albeit a handsome one). That was more than a little unnerving to Faith…

…but _not_ exactly unwelcome, either.

Shifting gears, she directed her view to the two champions across the hall. "So, uh…got any bets on what our fearless leaders are planning?"

Spike shook his head. He'd never put it past Buffy to come up with a plan. After the hell she's endured for the last seven years, it'd been drilled solidly into her head to have a plan. He knew better than most that beneath that schoolgirl smile and the bouncy blonde 'do was the mind of one of the greatest warriors he'd ever faced. And Spike had faced many. And, begrudged as he would be to admit it, Angel was always the strategist out of the Scourge of Europe; always thinking, always planning, always two steps ahead of everyone. He wielded a feared and powerful reputation as either the heroic Angel or the murderous Angelus for one reason: soul or no soul, he _always_ had a plan.

Still, far be it from him to give credit to anything his Pouf-y Grandsire was ever involved in. Especially anything that involved both him _and_ Buffy. "What makes you think they even _got_ a plan?"

"Because, man" , Faith gave him a strange look, before gazing back, almost reverently, at the two people whose opinion mattered most to her. "Guys like Angel and Buffy? They're made for moments like this. Hell, they were practically _born_ for this. It's what they do. It's who they are. Knowing them…smart money says from point A to Z", she paused, a smile on her lips, "…They know exactly what to do."

* * *

"What do we do?", Buffy asked, dismayed, leaning back against the desk of his study.

Angel, standing steadily across from her in the doorway, shook his head. "I wish I knew."

The two warriors were in deep thought for much time following their retreat in Angel's study.

"I…I just can't believe that Dawn would do this", Buffy shook her head, angrily. "How could she be so stupid?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine, for the moment, anyways", Angel offered her some comforting, if not unrealistic words. "I mean, she did grow up in Sunnydale, which can be a dangerous place at night. And-and she does have Connor with her". He trailed off, upset. "Although I'm definitely going to give him a piece of my mind when he gets back. He should've known better."

Buffy frowned. "So, my kid sister's wandering around in one of the biggest cities in the world, looking for an evil being, in the body of our friend, who's pretty fond of the mayhem and murder bit, and your most comforting offering is that she's accompanied by street smarts from Hellmouth Central and a hormonally-charged teenage kid with major Oedipal complex and violence issues?"

Angel sheepishly shrugged. "Well, I…I guess I'm just saying it could be worse."

"Sure", Buffy said, dryly. "She could be meeting some nice drug dealers on the way. Although drugs might be a logical explanation as to why she chose to run off on this little suicide-capade."

"The others are working on a way to locate Cordy", Angel said, calmly. "I'm sure they'll come up with something soon. Between Giles, Wesley and Willow, they should be done faster than we know it."

"And then what?", Buffy asked him. Off his questioning look, she replied, "Angel, I think it's a given that we find Cordy. But then what happens?"

"We save her, get our kids home, take the demon out of Cordy, save the world, then ground them 'till their Social Security kicks in", Angel replied. "Which, in Connor's case, will be a long time, considering he doesn't have any Social Security. Or birth records, for that matter."

Suppressing a smile, Buffy pressed on. "I mean, what if things get too crazy when we find her? In spite of this tremendous brain-freeze, Dawn is a smart girl. By now, she's probably found 'Cordy'. Which means she and Connor could be in big trouble."

"I'm not following", Angel replied, confused.

She smirked. "Well, being quick was never one of your strong points."

"Buffy", he sighed her name softly, prompting her to continue.

"Sorry", she said, getting back to the point. "The thing is…let's say it comes down to a choice. Say in one hand, we have Cordy's life. And, say, in the other hand, we have Connor's. And Dawn's. I think we both know from experience that we can't have our cake and eat it, too." She broke off, staring far off into a distant memory. "Sometimes, things happen. Things we can't control. Things we can't stop no matter how much we…and even though we don't want to make that choice…we have to. For the greater good."

Angel knew what she was referring to, as his brown eyes met her sad green ones. He slowly took several steps towards her, closing the gap between them.

"You never should've been forced to make that decision."

For all the harsh and painful memories that Angel held, few were ever more heartbreaking than when Buffy, faced with the choice of saving her beloved or saving the world, was forced into making that gut-wrenching sacrifice of stabbing him through his heart with a sword, watching the only man she ever loved being swallowed whole into Hell, so that the world could see another sunrise. Even through all of his torment and the nightmarish centuries he spent in that horrific place, he never held any grudge against Buffy. For he knew she did what she had to do, to protect her family and friends, to protect what she was chosen to protect. He only loved her more for it, trusted her even more than he ever had, for when it came down to it, she proved that she would be able to grant him the best peace of mind that she could: that in his absence, she could protect others from himself. From the monster within him.

From Angelus.

She sighed wistfully, staring up into his eyes. "I wish I never _had_ to. Every day. But what's done is done. We can't change it, no matter how much we want to."

Angel knew where this was going. "Look, Buffy-"

"And that's exactly my point", she continued, undeterred. "We have no idea what we can expect when we find them. There might be a chance to save them all, but if Metal Face is right…there might not be anything we _can_ do to help Cordy."

Angel wasn't having any of that. He hadn't come this far to lose Cordelia. After what happened to Doyle all those years ago, he made a promise to himself that he wouldn't lose anyone else, if he could help it. He had to reassure Buffy that this would work.

"Look, Willow and the others will find a cure for Cordy. They're probably putting the finishing touches on something right now-"

"Angel", Buffy cut him off. "Look, I…I understand, Cordy's your best friend. God knows how hard it was for when Willow went bad, but…" she paused, taking a deep breath before her eyes met his. "I think it's time we think worst-case scenario."

He abruptly rose, walking away from her. His voice was soft-spoken, but with an edge hard enough to cut through diamonds. "_Don't_."

She shook her head, sadly. "I have to"

He whirled on her, his dark eyes flashing. "You're asking me to _kill_ Cordelia?"

"No", she replied, her voice soft, but firm. "I'm asking you to be strong. To be able to make the right decision _if_ we're forced to."

His voice was almost pleading. "Buffy, I don't think I can-"

"You have to" she insisted. God, she hated this, hated herself for even _thinking _about something like this, but it had to be done. Someone had to be the strong one. "Or else Dawn & Connor are dead."

Angel had to make his share of tortured decisions in his much-too-long life. Leaving Buffy, accepting his infant son's loss, cutting off his friends when he waged war on Wolfram & Hart…he knew that this would be yet another one of those times, another time when he would have to lose yet another piece of his already fractured soul.

But to even consider doing this to Cordy…she had been there from the start. In every form, in every shape that his embattled crew had taken since the night he arrived in the City of…for the first time in this city, Cordelia Chase has always been there. He watched her evolve from that vain, brash, carefree schoolgirl he knew all those years ago into a capable, confident, even sensitive (at times) young woman. Through his toughest moments, his most painful times, she was his rock. Her steadfast loyalty was one of the few things that kept him going in the face of the omnipresent darkness he fought every night. To abandon her now, when she needed him most to be the champion she believed him to be, to just turn his back on one of the most important people in his life…

He could barely speak as he met Buffy's eyes. "I can't."

_Someone has to be the strong one_. Summoning every ounce of courage, the little blonde Slayer took a deep breath and met Angel's pained face. "Then I will."

His eyes bored into her so hard, it took every fiber of courage she had not to flinch; it was if he was staring into her very soul. "Do you _really_ think you have enough in you to have innocent blood on your hands?"

_No_, she silently admitted, _I don't_. She would never even consider taking a human life, led alone the life of a friend, but too much was at stake for her to make this decision as Buffy. She had to make this decision as the Chosen One, the Slayer.

"Whatever that thing is, it's far from innocent. It's _killed_ people—"

"But _Cordy's_ innocent in all of this!" Angel snapped. "That _thing_ is what's been the cause of everything that's happened."

"I _know_", Buffy bit out, before taking a calm breath of air. Losing her temper would not help this situation. She knew he wasn't going to give in to this without a fight. It was part of what she loved about him. But time was running short; she had to press on. "I know…but it doesn't matter. We're running low on time, lives are at stake, and whatever that thing's giving birth to, I doubt it's the Ally McBeal dancing baby." She paused, frowning. "Although that _would_ be a portent to an apocalypse, now that I think about it."

"This _isn't_ a joke, Buffy!"

"No, it's _not_ a joke. I get how serious this is!", she shot back, bristling. "God, Angel, you think I want this? Do you see me putting up party streamers at the prospect of having to kill one of my friends?"

"No, but…" he trailed off, eyes averting to the floor. "You don't understand."

"Then _make_ me!" Buffy stepped closer to him, her questioning eyes scanning for the answers on Angel's face. "Make me understand…look, Angel, I know this from experience, it's never easy to come to this point with one of your closest friends, but-"

"She's more than that."

Her eyes went wide as she recoiled backwards, letting the meaning of those words sink in.

"_More than that_." She repeated those words, "Exactly…how _much_ more?"

Off the look in her eyes, Angel muttered a curse under his breath…or lack-thereof. Through the telling of his life in the last 3 years, he hadn't mentioned to Buffy about the unusual dynamic that had formed between himself and Cordy; a bond that mistook for a time, a _brief_ time, as romance. He knew he had some more explaining to do with Buffy (a conversation that he was not in the least looking forward to) but he, too, knew that time was running out, and far too quickly to discuss the strange and complicated saga of 'Angel-Cordelia'.

"This isn't the time for that", he said quietly.

"The time for _what_?", her voice…she had to fight to keep it from hissing out of her, a wave of jealousy washing over her, though she had no real idea why.

"Look…this isn't about what I _feel_", he said, his stony eyes locking with Buffy's yet again. "It's about what I _do_…this is about saving someone's _soul_."

Those words…so similar to what he told her the night she came to L.A. years ago to make Faith pay for her recent romp through Sunnydale, in Buffy's body, no less. She was still too young, too hurt from the way things ended between them, to understand what he was doing in L.A., when he should have been by her side, when she needed him so badly.

But over time, she had come to understand what he meant, understand Angel's significance to that city, and to the world. He wasn't just saving lives, he _changed_ them. For the better. Even in Sunnydale, either from Willow or in hushed whispers 'round the demon bars, she'd heard tales from the growing legend of the vampire-with-a-soul, the Champion. The things he'd done, the lives he'd saved, the demons he and his crew had slain…it only reaffirmed what Buffy knew all along about Angel: that given a second chance at life, he could make amends. And do good.

So she squelched the temptation to snap out at him, say something petty about him hiding behind 'the mission' in order to avoid answering her question, reminding herself that this wasn't the time to be focusing on her romantic life; this wasn't the time to be Buffy. Summoning the Slayer within her, she focused back on what mattered: the mission.

"Yes, it is." She nodded, her gaze almost hypnotic to him, communicating her message with a force that words could not. "And right now…it's about saving _two_ of them. A _planet_ full, actually."

The door suddenly swung open. "Hey, guys", Xander said, the shortness in his breath tipping them off that he'd been in a hurry to get there. "Willow sent me. I think they've got a lock on Cordy."

Buffy nodded. "Thanks, Xand. Tell them we'll be there in a minute."

A brief nod and a click of the door later, Xander was gone.

"Look…Angel, I can't force you to make this decision, but…" he followed Buffy's gaze out into the hallway, where their friends and allies were. "There are a lot of people counting on us to do the right thing. I can make the suggestion, but whether or not we do it…it's your choice."

Angel felt dread trickling down his spine. As much as it pained him, he knew Buffy was right. Too many lives were at risk, his son and her sister's among them, to delay on a decision he knew he had to make. But could he really bring it upon himself to end the life of one of the two most important women in his life? His best friend?

He honestly didn't know, but with time ticking away, he was sure of one thing…

Things were not looking good for Cordy. Not in the least.

* * *

'_Vanu'esh katahn darh'im vajra'ha'esh.'_

'_Vanu'esh katahn darh'im vajra'ha'esh.'_

'Cordelia' swayed back and forth as she performed the archaic magicks that would prepare the ritual for the birth.

This was working out better than she had hoped. And it was a good thing, too, since 'the Boss' had issued that deadly ultimatum. Unfortunately, there hadn't been too many virgins that had popped up since her last failures. She was rapidly beginning to lose hope that she could perform the ritual at all…until Connor's miraculous appearance.

However, in spite of the hurriedness of the situation, she could not shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach, the nagging feeling that just wouldn't go away. She certainly didn't mind having a sacrifice ready, of course. One dead virgin was just as good as the next. Still, something about Connor's behavior was throwing her off. Not that he was ever the portrait of calm and serenity, but that fact of the matter was, she wasn't stupid. How could she not be keeping a close eye on him, especially after what happened earlier with Darla the Friendly Ghost's appearance? How could she not question the timing of the events? Connor's sudden change of heart, after his captivating performance of the 'good son' with Darla earlier that evening…and what was the deal with him not wanting to show her the face of the girl?

She didn't have much time on her hands, but there were questions that needed to have answers.

She opened her eyes to find Connor, restlessly pacing back and forth, not a few feet from her. His eyes kept darting back and forth between herself and the stock room where the girl was being held. It was too strange that he could be so fixated on the girl, especially since he seemed so willing to get on with the ritual just earlier. Why would he be so concerned about her fate when he seemed so on-board with her? Why would he care?

"Connor", she called out to him, snapping his attention back to her. "Hand me the Prio-Motu entrails."

His expression was stoic as he reached over and passed her a jar containing the demon organs. She watched him carefully, even as she reached into the jar, grabbing the vile-smelling organs and placing them into a jar mixed with herbs, salts, and other concoctions, beginning to grind and mix them with a pestle.

"Why so nervous?", she asked, forcing her voice to sound casual to mask the suspicion and concern she felt.

Connor looked up, caught off guard by her question. "What?...Nervous? Me? What makes you think that?", he forced a chuckle, looking away from her.

'Cordelia' fixed a probing gaze on him. "You've just seemed kinda…different?"

"I'm….I guess I'm just…excited about our baby, you know? Our baby?"

"I was beginning to think you were a lost cause…"she said, scowling at the memory of why. "Especially after what happened after Mommy popped in for a little 'bitch-to-son' chat."

His knuckles grew white at the mention of his mother in such a disdainful manner. An action that was not unnoticed by 'Cordelia'. But he knew he had to keep his composure. He was guessing that this Cordelia imposter had no idea that the captive in the other room was really the Slayer's sister. Or that this was really a sting operation to nab her. At least, that's what he was _banking_ on.

Drawing in a calm breath, he replied, "She…she wasn't…she wasn't what I thought she was."

'Cordelia' kept her watchful gaze on him, even as she mixed the ingredients. "What'd you think she was?"

"Understanding." He forced down the smile threatening to tug at his lips. "Caring."

"And I _wasn't_?", she asked, slightly annoyed.

Connor took a deep breath, and then met her eyes. "You were." _Not_! "I…I was just…confused, is all."

Her eyebrow cocked upwards, still not convinced. "Seem to be doing that a lot these days" She decided to switch tactics. "So…tell me about the girl."

Connor stiffened for a moment as Dawn's pretty face flashed in his mind, but managed to steel himself for the answer. Her safety was in his hands and he had no intention of letting her down. Besides, it certainly wasn't the first time he'd ever lied before. "What about her?"

The thing was, however, 'Cordelia' knew that. The kid had managed to lie to those closest to him for three whole months while Angel, his own father, had unwillingly taken up deep sea diving, thanks to Connor. This was a game, a staring contest, a game of mental poker. And she had no intention of cracking. "Well, for starters, where'd you find her?"

"In an alley", he replied, quick, but not too quickly.

"_What_ alley?", she cut in, almost as quickly.

Resisting the urge to let his eyes dart around, Connor feigned a careless shrug. "I don't know, a few blocks off from the hotel."

She was not satisfied. "When?"

He was getting irritated. Fast. "A little while ago…what's with all the questions? I got you a girl, didn't I?"

'Cordelia' looked taken aback. Keyword, 'looked'. One of the more handy skills she had picked up from forcing her way into the real Cordelia Chase's body was her convincing acting skills. "What, I can't be curious about the welfare of my own child? Why are you getting so defensive?"

"Why can't you just trust me?", he asked defensively.

"Because you haven't exactly had my back on everything, lately, _have_ you?", she asked, the question as loaded as a Red Sox fan at a Boston pub during the '04 World Series run.

Irritated, he snapped, "Well, if that's the way you feel, maybe I should just _go_…and take the girl _with_ me."

Her scowl was so black she could have blocked out the sun with it…again. "Don't. You. _Dare_."

Connor forced down a smile. He knew he just won the contest. "Just kidding." He reached out and brushed back a lock of hair from her face. "You shouldn't get so mad…that's not healthy for the baby."

"And we wouldn't want that now, would we?" 'Cordelia' smiled, yet stared at him, almost daring him to say otherwise. Daring him to blink in this little staring contest they've been having.

Connor's face was unreadable, but his words were gentle, a contrast to the uneasy feeling in his gut. "No. We wouldn't."

* * *

Fred and Gunn sat on the stairs of the lobby, directly across from the study where Buffy & Angel were talking, waiting for Lorne's spell to finish.

"What do you think they'll do?", Fred asked, watching fretfully.

Gunn replied stoically. "What they have to, like their kind always does."

"What kind is that?", Fred asked.

"Heroes, babe", Gunn replied, his eyes gazing at the two warriors with a hint of admiration in his eyes. "Champions. It's what they do. It's why they're here. For times like these."

Fred wanted desperately to find some comfort in his words, but based in everything she had seen so far, even her steadfast, often blind faith was now being shaken. If everything she heard from Skip was right, then did anything they could do even count for anything? Would there be a point? Would there be a meaning for fighting back?

With a sigh, the sprightly Texan gave voice to her fears. "Will it make a difference? If we really are just pieces being moved around a board…"

"Then we'll kick it over and start a new game", Gunn replied, his voice gaining strength, confidence. "Look, monochrome can yap all he wants about no-name's cosmic plan but here's a little something I picked up rubbin' mojos these past couple of years: the final score can't be rigged.

"I don't care how many players you grease, that last shot always comes up a question mark. But here's the thing—you never know when you're taking it. It could be when you're duking it out with the Legion of Doom or just crossing the street deciding where to have brunch. So you just treat it all like it was up to you, the world in the balance", he broke off, smiling faintly. "…'cause you never know when it is."

Charles Gunn was never much into the philosophy of destiny. He never liked the idea of not being in control of his own life, his own fate. When the odds told him that he would be fated to die before he saw the age of 20 in his brewing street war with the vampires of L.A., he steeled himself and fought back with everything he had. And he beat those odds. He lost friends and even his sister along the way, but he survived, even when everyone told him he couldn't, even when he doubted himself at times that he could or should have survived.

But Gunn never stopped believing. He was a fighter his whole life, the choice or lack thereof that he was given. He continued to survive, so that he could fight to ensure that no one else would ever have to go through what he did: to lose his family, his mother, father and sister to the unseen evils that lurked in the darkness. And he wasn't about to stop fighting, or believing, when the world was now hanging in the balance.

Especially when it came to his faith in the man that had brought he and his friends this far, the man that time and again he knew to defy the odds himself.

Though he would never admit it, for he was too proud and stubborn to do so, Angel was one of the strongest men that he knew. And not because of the steel-bending super-strength that came with being a 200 year-plus creature-of-the-night. It was Angel's unrelenting determination, his resolve, his will to win that made him so unlike anyone or anything that Gunn had ever witnessed. After seeing Angel do the things he had done in the two years he spent fighting alongside him, seeing the people whose lives he saved, whose souls he touched with his compassion and mercy, seeing him struggle through the personal grief, loss and torment that faced him at every turn and still walk away, still standing and stronger, he felt as though nothing could ever be strong enough to truly break him.

He wasn't about to lose faith in that kind of man. That kind of being.

Angel deserved more than that.

As far as Charles Gunn was concerned, Angel had earned that faith.

Fred Burkle resisted the urge to sigh like some moony-eyed teenager. It had been a long time, forever, it seemed like, since she'd seen Charl…er, Gunn, smile like that. Granted he seldom was for smiling, usually opting for the no-nonsense, menacing scowl that came with the territory of being the Muscle of Angel Investigations. But the few times when Fred did see him smile…honestly, the man had one of the most beautiful smiles she had ever seen.

"You been practicing that?", she smiled warmly.

He looked down to see Fred's brown eyes looking up at him, glowing in admiration. He fought the urge to shiver a little at the jolt he felt pass up his system when she looked at him like that. Like nothing was changed. Like they could still be Fred and Charles, the perfect couple with the breakfasts in bed, the soft words of love and endearment, the passionate love-making sessions deep in the annals of the night…like they never hurt or lied to each other, like he never caught her in Wesley's tender embrace, like they never…

Gunn, shaking off his thoughts, allowed himself to laugh. "Little bit."

Their private chat was interrupted when Lorne entered, holding a map, followed by Wesley, Willow, Giles, Xander and Darla.

"Hug your neighbor, kiddies", Lorne sang jubilantly. "We got it!"

Skip snorted. "You're all puppets."

Wesley pointed the smoking claw at him, his eyes flashing cold warning. "Shut up."

"Well, where _is_ the bird?", Spike asked.

Willow glanced down at the map. "Well, according to the scorch marks, downtown."

"Gee, that narrows down to only a few _hundred_ places she could be", Xander groaned as he scanned the map anxiously.

"Is your little hocus-pocus specific on where fake Cordelia and her spawn-in-the-oven are staked out?", Faith wondered.

"This appears to be the meatpacking district, if I'm not mistaken", Giles replied.

"It's a factory. That much I remember", Darla answered, before turning to Wesley. "How close is that from here?"

"About 10 minutes from here by car, a half-hour by foot", Wesley answered.

"_Good work_."

Angel's voice had startled them, as he and Buffy made their way back into the lobby. Their faces were etched into masks of impassiveness, their outward demeanor a reflection of levity and calm. But their eyes, if one could look hard enough, bore traces of sadness, or regret, for whatever action that they were about to embark upon.

Upon walking in, Angel took the map from Lorne, and then headed for the weapons cabinet. Buffy barely acknowledged the group with a sad nod before she joined Angel over by the cabinet, arming herself carefully.

Gunn instinctively took this as his signal. "Let's load up", he sighed as he moved to join them.

Angel's voice stopped him cold.

"No, you're not coming. Any of you."

Willow was surprised. "You're going after her alone?"

Buffy glanced to Angel, their eyes locked in silent understanding. With a sad nod, the Slayer turned back to her best friend. "We don't have a choice, Will."

"You sure that's a good idea, Sunshine?", Lorne asked, concerned. "I mean, the last time we tried going after her, we got our collective butts kicked."

"Yeah", Faith added. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to bring a little back up-"

"No", Angel abruptly answered. "Buffy and I have to handle this ourselves."

"And you two are…decided on this matter?", Giles asked.

"Look, whatever's taken over Cordy…it's still her inside. She's still our friend", Angel explained, though it pained him to talk about it. As his eyes ticked from Buffy back to his friends, he swallowed hard before he continued. "We won't let you carry that."

"We can't", Buffy added softly. Her eyes met the stunned and saddened gazes of her friends. The undertone made it quite clear what they had decided upon.

"But there could be another way", Darla insisted. "What about the spell? What about-"

"What about your _son_, Darla?", Buffy cut in, her voice slightly edged, but softening upon remembering that Darla was Connor's mother. "What about my _sister_? Or her friends? Or everyone on Earth? Put yourself in our position. What would _you_ do?"

Darla wanted to argue, felt her newfound instinct to defend innocent life flare, but could not. It was her son, after all. She had just found him again, after she never thought that she would get another chance to. She lost him once; she didn't think she could bear to lose him twice.

Buffy sighed. How to make them understand… "Look, Plan A isn't 'us-running-off-to-lop-off-Cordy's-head'. If we can save her, then we will. We'll do whatever it takes. But all of you know that sometimes…things happen. Plans change. And if we can't help her, if it comes down to that thing inside her and the people we love, the people we've been sworn to protect…then we need you to understand what we're prepared to do." She swallowed. "What we may have to do."

Skip sighed, bored with the ongoing drama. "Anybody got a hanky?"

Ignoring the demon, Spike grimly spoke up. "So…that's it, then."

Fred could barely believe this was happening. This wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be like this. "They're really going to do it. They're going to kill Cordelia."

Wesley nodded, gravely. "They may not have a choice."

Xander gritted his teeth. "There's _always_ a choice."

Buffy glanced unhappily at Xander, shaking her head. "Not always, Xander. Not always."

"Buffy, _come on_!", Xander said, his voice now pleading. "I mean…you're not really going to do this, are you? I mean, it's…it's _Cordy_!" His voice quivered, fighting the urge to break. He repeated it softly. "It's _Cordy_."

"I know." Buffy met his desperate gaze, pursing her lips together, her face showing her sorrow. Her voice was barely a whisper. "_I know_."

Angel took a broadsword and headed for the door. He turned back to Buffy. "We have to go."

Nodding solemnly, she grabbed her crossbow and headed after him, joining him side-by-side on top of the stairs as they retreated to the door, both warriors moving as one.

"Angel, wait!" Fred cried out one more time to appeal to her friend's common sense.

He turns to Fred and sadly shook his head, dashing any hopes Fred had of an 11th-hour change of heart.

Then, without so much as a glance, both Champion and Slayer stalked out of the Hyperion Hotel, leaving the others shocked into silence in the wake of their departure.

Skip couldn't help himself. "Yep. _That'll_ go well", he smiled cheerfully.

* * *

Dawn watched the door with growing dread as she shifted her hands restlessly. The ropes binding her wrists together weren't inescapable, but they were pretty itchy. And as time grew closer to the ritual, she realized only now that perhaps she could have drawn up their 'big plan' with a little more…detail. But then again, everything happened so fast that there wasn't exactly time to draw up blueprints. Hell, she'd even settle for Andrew's 'Big Board' at the moment.

The thing about Dawn, though, was that she was never as unprepared or reckless as her friends may have thought her to be. Case in point, she had a Plan B…safely tucked underneath the right sleeve of her long-sleeve shirt.

A small vial, given to her courtesy of one Willow Rosenberg.

It was a little something she received as a gift, a guilt-trip gift, after Willow returned from England, fresh from the Wiccan Coven. The little red-headed witch, flooded with guilt from her near-world-ending actions last Spring, presented Dawn with a little peace offering. A small glass vial, filled with a mysterious yellow gas.

_Remember, Dawnie_, she remembered Willow's words to her. _This is only to be used in case of a real emergency It-it's kind of got a universal use to it, but…think of it as a little something to, you know…light your way._

Dawn smiled, thankful that the Western Hemisphere's most powerful sorceress suffered from one of the worst guilt trips ever. Because, boy, did this ever qualify as an emergency.

Her thoughts where interrupted when she caught sight of Connor in the doorway. She almost yelped in surprise, the boy having made no sound as he entered.

Connor swallowed. "Come on…it's time."

Dawn nodded, then held out her hands. Just as Connor laid his hands on the ropes, she whispered, "Remember what we talked about. Make it look real."

With a simple nod, Connor forcibly yanked hard on the ropes as he began to drag Dawn to the other room. The great show she made of squealing and struggling would look convincing enough for anyone.

Anyone, that is, but 'Cordelia'.

She stood there, watching Connor bring the girl into the room, another lamb offered for the slaughter. The key to this ritual, and her ticket to getting a very angry First Evil off her back, was only a few feet – and one good swing of a meat cleaver- away for her…

So why did something still tell her that something smelled more rotten than the putrid stench of dead meat that permeated this hell hole? And why did she have the sinking feeling it had to do with the girl?

A smile creeped up on her face. "Connor…could you hand me that vial over there?"

"Vial?", Connor frowned, turning his head towards the dimly-lit circle of candles and supplies a few feet from them. "I don't see any—"

In a flash, 'Cordelia' moved with lightning speed and roughly grabbed Dawn's face. Startled, the youngest Summers let out a yelp as her wide blue eyes met the eerily sharp gaze of the impostor.

"Dawn?", 'Cordelia' exclaimed, before her shock turned to anger. "_Dawn Summers_?"

Connor whirled around in surprise. She moved surprisingly fast for a heavily pregnant woman. And faster than he was prepared for.

" 'Cordy'. Hi", Dawn greeted in reply, her voice dripping sarcasm. "Gotta tell ya-I hate the outfit."

"_You_." The pregnant woman's eyes whipped wildly to Connor, realization flashing through furious hazel eyes. "You little…you brought her _here_? _Now_? Do you _know_ who she _is_?"

Connor backpedaled, somewhat. "What? No, I-"

She advanced on him, snarling every word. "Her sister, her meddling, goody-two-shoes, bleach-blonde _glory-hog_ sister, is the _Slayer_! If you brought her here, then you'll lead them right to us!"

Connor drew up his full height, not flinching from her verbal onslaught. "_You_ said it had to be a virgin! I looked everywhere, and this was the best I could do, alright? There's your girl, so what's the problem?"

She laughed bitterly. "Girl? You half-wit, she's no _girl_, she's…"

_The Key_, she recalled, as the real Cordelia's memories began flipping through her mind's eye. She pulled up the story that Willow told Angel's gang, about Dawn's true nature, and the awesome power locked away inside the girl.

More specifically, in her blood.

'Cordelia' gasped as the realization hit her. "The _Key's_ blood…"

At that moment, a worried Dawn and a suddenly ecstatic 'Cordelia' were thinking the same thing: If Dawn's blood held the power to open dimensional pathways through space and time…one could only imagine what it could do for the power of the 'baby' inside 'Cordelia'.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the corner of stacked boxes not 10 feet from where they stood, Vi and Molly tried to make out the situation. They heard the shouts, read their body movements, yet could not fully understand what was happening.

But their instincts were telling them, screaming at them, that something was terribly wrong.

Even more so as Connor's body blocked Molly's view on 'Cordelia'…but not on Dawn.

Vi couldn't understand. "What's he doing? Molly? What's he doing?"

Molly shook her head, perplexed. "I don't know. I don't know!"

"Take the shot, Molly!", Vi urged her frantically. "You have perfect aim. Take the shot…_now_!"

"I…I can't", Molly hesitated. "He's blocking my view to 'Cordelia'. I can't lock in without risking hitting Dawn!"

* * *

As 'Cordelia' slowly advanced on her, the dim light catching off the meat cleaver, Dawn scuttled backwards, subtly moving her hand towards the vial under her sleeve. Connor, already tense from the start, slowly started to advance on his 'mate', knowing that his supernatural speed could have him intercept 'Cordelia' in half a heartbeat, his inherited strength could knock her out with a single, effortless blow…

Suddenly, 'Cordelia' turned to him, flashing a chilling smile. He took a step backwards, a little surprised by her movement…then stunned as she handed him the handle of the lethal weapon in her hands.

"Why don't you do the honors?"

His eyes met Dawn's stunned gaze, turning to the weapon offered him. "What?"

"Hey, you earned it, tiger." She winked, as she sauntered forward, placing the handle of the blade into his steely grip. She slowly maneuvered her way behind him, leaning towards his ear. "I mean, the power in this girl's blood? You've come through in ways I couldn't even begin to think of."

"But remember, nice and fast. After all" she turned back to Dawn, flashing a sneer dripping with malice, "her sister would just die if she thought the little darling suffered…wouldn't she?"

Dawn scowled back at the temptress. "Gee…you're just a walking, talking, homicidal Care-Bear, huh?"

'Cordelia' nudged him towards Dawn, then stepped backwards to get a better view.

Now was as good a time as any, Dawn figured. She looked up to Connor, who had her weapon in hand, and a completely unsuspecting 'Cordelia' in the wings.

"Now", she mouthed silently to him, encouraging him to make his move.

But he stood there, eyeing the blade in his hands, questioningly.

"Connor, what are you waiting for?", she whispered, confused. Why wasn't he moving?

His eyes looked eerily calm as he stared back at her, his expression unreadable.

Her fear began to rapidly build, confusion setting in. "Connor, what are you doing?"

She could see him turn the blade's edge away, ready for use, as his trembling hand started raising skywards.

A wave of icy fear washed over her as she saw the blade rise over her head. "What are you doing?"

And as she saw the watchful, eager gaze of 'Cordelia', the look of apprehension, of indecision in his eyes, her blue eyes widened in fear as her frightened voice could only meekly utter one word.

"…_Connor_?"

* * *

To Be continued…

* * *

A.N. – BOY, how's that for a cliffhanger, huh, kiddies? Fear not, I'm working on the next chapter as we speak. I swear, sooner or later, this story will be completed. R&R - l8ter!

Jean-theGuardian


	15. Part13 Flaned,Freaked,Flirted and Foiled

HEY THERE! Yup, it's me again. I am SOO sorry for the delay, but it took me a while to get back into the spirit of things to finish the latest chapter. Been trying to go through the old Buffy/Angel DVDs, read some of the new comics and such. But fear not, this story is still going strong.

Happy reading, and remember : feedback good. Fire bad. Tree Pretty!

* * *

**Bring Me to Life**

**Part 13 – Flaned, Freaked, Flirted and Foiled**

* * *

"God, how I love Flan", sighed a content Andrew as he eyed the precious, aromatic caramel liquid steaming from the giant pot. He was ecstatic that Angel's hotel kitchen was so, well…awesome. Equipped with state-of-the-art appliances, fully stacked cupboards, and a kick-ass conventional oven, Andrew was in gourmet heaven.

"It's all so…beautiful," he said, his voice trembling with reverence.

"What's the deal with you and cooking, anyway?" asked Anya as she observed the boy from the left side of the oven. "I know that typically most females think it's a turn-on for a guy to prove he can do something other than scratch themselves in inappropriate places when they think nobody's looking, but this is starting to border on 'unhealthy obsession'."

Andrew turned to the former Vengeance Demon with an indignant look on his face. "The culinary arts are a vastly underappreciated genre. One that ought to be treated with the respect and the dignity that it so rightfully deserves, and…_stop touching my egg beaters_!"

As he snatched away the cooking utensil from Anya's hands, she gave him a wry glance. "You're probably the only guy on Earth that'd say that to a woman."

Andrew reddened with embarrassment as he realized the double-entendre behind the statement (which was a rarity, considering his obliviousness to most snarky comments made at his expense). "So, anyway, how come _you're_ hanging out down here in the kitchen, anyway? I figured you'd be in the war rooms with the others. I mean, you're much better at this whole apocalyptic…stuff, with your vengeance knowledge, and your demon knowledge and everything-knowledge."

Anya pursed her lips, her eyes clouded in thought as she quietly uttered a single word. "Xander."

"Him, too", Andrew agreed, absentmindedly. "He's been through, like six or seven different apocalypses. He's got a ton of cred—_ow_!" He rubbed his arm tenderly after Anya's palm sharply connected with it.

She rolled her eyes, amazed at how dense this boy was. Seriously, he wouldn't get a clue if he made out a check for one. "No, goofus. I meant it's…it's not easy being in the same room with him these days."

Andrew had kept his eyes trained on the liquid boiling in the pot, but looked up from his cooking as he listened to Anya's suddenly morose commentary. A look of understanding washed over the boys face. "Ah…right. The thing with you and Xander that happened earlier."

Surprised, Anya stared at the boy. "I…you heard about that?"

Andrew simply rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, sweet Anya. I heard the buzz. A blind guy could see it coming a mile away."

A flustered look came upon her face. "Oh, my God…it was _that_ obvious?"

"Well, _duh_," Andrew replied, sagely. "It was as plain as day to see . The flustered looks, the hungry stares, the way your words cut into each other while jockeying for position…it doesn't take a reformed evil genius to see the writing on the wall."

"Really?" the blonde asked quietly.

"Of course, I'd be mad, too, if I was in your position," he added sympathetically.

A smile brightened her face at the Star Trek-obsessed fanboy's words. Of all the people under this roof, she never would have expected _him_ to get her so easily. "You…you _would_?"

"Of course," he replied. "I mean, that is one great room up there he's got, not that your room is any worse, with that awesome balcony view, but – _owww_!"

Andrew winced as he felt Anya's manicured hand rap him sharply across the back of his head.

"The room?" Anya huffed in annoyance. "You think I'm this worked up about a stupid _room_?"

"Hey, watch it! You nearly made me spill my Flan!" Andrew protested, his hands hovering protectively around the pot.

"Oh, go Flan yourself," Anya retorted. "Here I am thinking we were having a meaningful conversation, and there you are, thinking I was obsessed over a balcony view? How superficial do you think I am?"

"Not very," Andrew meekly replied, but off Anya's offended glare, he stammered, "I mean, not at all! You're deep, like, super-deep! Like Sharon Stone in 'The Quick and the Dead' or-or Pamela Anderson in 'Barb Wire,' whose performance, I think, was very underrated – "

"My god, have you _ever_ known life outside your television and DVD player?" Anya sighed, frustrated. She should have known better than to hope for a bear-your-soul moment with a virgin whose idea of depth couldn't extend further beyond watching all six Star Wars in a row. Still, she relented, she did need someone to talk to and, unfortunately, he was the only one here.

"It's not the damn room, it's…just Xander. I know I should be over it, I mean, the guy left me standing at the altar, even after everything we've been through, everything we meant to each other…I mean, I gave up being a powerful and feared Vengeance Demon for that man – "

"Actually, I heard you lost your powers _before_ you and he got together," Andrew interjected.

"Okay, you cut me off again, and I'm pouring that Flan down your pants, _got it_?" she menaced the now-cowering boy before continuing. "See, the point is, I give that idiot all I've got, only to have him throw it all back in my face, and I know that I shouldn't think twice about it, and that he's not even worth the time of day anymore, and yet, when I'm around him…"

"Let me guess," Andrew ventured, as his voice suddenly turned morphed into a cheesy Peppy Le Piu impersonation, "…you want him to wrap you in his arms, caress your hair, and smother you with loving, tender, passionate – "

"I want to knee him in the balls!" she cut him off. "He's just so frustrating that it's maddening. He's immature, stubborn, a complete and totally insecure ass, and-and-and…" she sighed in carnal frustration, "…he's just so damn sexy that it hurts."

Andrew nodded, taking in the sight of the obviously still heart-wounded girl.

"…And all this time we've been in the hotel, even on the way here, he's been so wrapped up in helping _Cordelia_? I mean, what's up with that? The only reason I even ended up here is because she wanted to make him pay for making out with Willow – big waste of time _that_ was, seeing as how she took her streamers to march in the Purple Parade. All they ever did was take pot shots and stabs at each other's pride, even when they _were_ dating, and yet, all he's been talking about is 'poor Cordy', 'she's a helpless victim,' blah-blah-blah," she ranted. "Ugh, I don't get it."

"Have you talked to him about it?" Andrew asked.

Anya waved away that suggestion. "What's the point in talking if he's not doing any listening?"

"At least you'd be communicating," he said, turning to the pretty ex-shop keeper.

She couldn't stop the wave of fear from rushing over her. And, for the life of her, she couldn't understand it. For more than a thousand years, she had inspired fear among deceitful men who preyed on wronged women as the reviled Anyanka, Patron Saint of Scorned Women. She would have considered any man who would dare have the nerve to approach her as to be brave or foolish.

So, why did the thought of bearing her soul to a wisecracking 23-year old construction worker who dumped her at the alter scare her worse than a life-sized Energizer Bunny?

"I can't," Anya muttered. "It's…it's too hard."

"But if you let your fear, anger, or denial get in the way of talking through things, it's only going to keep you further apart," Andrew rationalized. "And he'll never know unless you tell him how you feel." He shrugged. "Heck, for all you know, maybe he feels the same way about you."

The hope dawned in her brown eyes was practically glowing. "You…you really think so?"

"Well, yeah, I mean…c'mon, just look at you. You're beautiful, and smart, and you've got a really painful left hook," Andrew chuckled, remembering Anya's bad-cop role when Andrew was interrogated on The First a few weeks back. "Geez, who _wouldn't_ be in love with you?"

Anya's eyebrows raised as Andrew – aware too late of what he just said – felt his face flush as he returned to stirring the boiling Flan. He nearly crossed a line, and he knew it.

Truth be told, during his time as a Guest-age in the Summers home, he had begun to slowly develop a little crush on Xander's ex-fiancé. She was the only one in the house who actually made any effort to talk to him, was actually nice to him – when she wasn't slapping him in the head – and was probably the only Scooby member who didn't want to pummel him (Buffy), smack him (Dawn), belittle him (Xander), flay him (Willow), or outright eat him (Spike). And when the closest thing that he had to a friend happened to be a gorgeous blonde temptress with a scary, ex-demony past…well, contrary to what other might have thought, Andrew wasn't gay. And he did have eyes…

He expected her to make good on her threat to spill his delicious caramel concoction down his trousers and storm out of the kitchen at any second. Or at least, smack him upside his head again. It's what he typically expected, since he never really fit in with other people.

Imagine his surprise when instead, the slender blonde rewarded him with a warm smile. "You know, for an annoying, yammering virgin…you're not so bad, sometimes."

Her fist connected with his arm again…only this time, it was gentler. Friendly, even.

_Ah, yes, the joys that Flan bring about,_ Andrew thought, as he savored the gentle sting where her fist landed.

* * *

Down in the training room of the hotel, the young Slayers-in-Training were going through their paces. Some were going through martial arts katas, while others practiced handling a stake (some more clumsily than others)…and Kennedy was overlooking them training with an irrepressible Chesire Cat grin on her face.

"C'mon, ladies, _step it up a notch_!" she barked to the sweating and grunting teenage girls, while Robin Wood observed her from off to the side. "We're training for battle here, not a bake sale!"

The smug comment earned her the stink-eye from Caridad and Rona, who were sparring on the far side of the room.

For a girl who was as green as the rest of the Potentials, Wood noted that she liked to take charge. He accredited that to what Buffy mentioned to him in the last few days – about Kennedy's wealthy, bordering-on-spoiled upbringing – but it didn't fully excuse her, in his eyes, from coming down so hard on the girls.

If there was one thing Bernard Crowley, the Watcher to his late and beloved mother, had engrained in Wood during his training, it was the value of keeping your allies close. He had no doubt that lesson was heavily influenced by his mother's murder – _a lesson learned too late to save her from that bastard Spike_, he groused bitterly. Kennedy's methods were the opposite of that. While Robin acknowledged the girl probably had the best intentions at heart, he knew that her hard-line tactics and strangely superior attitude – especially considering the girl had yet to do anything impressive – were a danger to the morale of these girls, who already had enough to deal with just being awkward teenagers, led alone being expected to turn into soldiers in a very limited time frame.

This was something that he would need to handle carefully. Guide Kennedy along without seeming like he was taking command. She was, after all, a teenager, and like any other teen worth their salt, she would likely bristle at anyone telling her what to do.

Fortunately, his day job made him somewhat of an expert in that area.

He was disrupted from his musings when he observed Caridad's rather unimpressive kick, which Rona blocked unconvincingly.

"Caridad," he called to the pretty Latina Potential as he moved closer to the pair. "Try leading with your weight in your stance. It should give your kick a little extra…well, kick."

Caridad nodded, shifted, kicked…and knocked Rona on her ass.

"Woah, nice!" Caridad smiled at the principal, impressed with the result.

On the ground, Rona groaned in pain as she glared up at Wood. "Yeah, real nice, teaching her to kick my ass."

Robin smiled ruefully as he picked up the young black potential from the floor. "Well, turnabout is fair play, I suppose. Caridad, try that one again."

Off Caridad's mischievous grin, Rona gaped in disbelief at Wood. "Are you for real?"

"Yup. Only this time, Rona, when she kicks, I want you to side-step to the left and use your left hand to strike the outside of Caridad's leg to the right."

Caridad waited, and then executed a perfect copy of her last kick. But this time, Rona neatly sidestepped her attack, then pushed her partner's leg aside. Caught off guard, Caridad found herself wobbling, off-balance, which caused Rona to instinctively lash out and return the earlier favor by introducing Caridad to the floor.

"Ha!" Rona triumphantly crowed. "See that, Cari? That's offense _and_ defense."

The floored Potential grumbled. "Yeah, yeah, what'chu want, a medal?"

Wood chuckled as he helped Caridad up. "See that? Now both of you have something the other needs. Caridad, you can throw some mean kicks, and Rona can block solidly. But neither one alone is going to get either of you through a fight in one piece." He placed his hands on both of their shoulders, bringing the girls closer to him. "But together? I wouldn't want to be the vamp on the opposite side of that ass-whoopin'."

Rona frowned, still lost. "Yeah, but, what's the point? Neither one of us knows how to do both."

"Yeah," Caridad nodded.

"That's why you two have to stick together," he sagely replied. "The calling you girls have says you have to stick it out alone. But the times are changing. You've got to learn to change with them. Stick with each other. Learn from each other. Train with each other. Because next to yourselves, the best asset you've got…is each other."

Off his pearls of wisdom, Rona and Caridad looked at each other, a wordless bond extending between them. They were a part of something much bigger now. An ageless sisterhood that went back thousands of years. And that was a bond they and their fellow sister Potentials had which transcended any differences they might have.

"Okay," Robin gently smiled, an odd juxtaposition to his next words. "Now, beat the hell out of each other."

Chuckling, Caridad and Rona went right back to sparring.

"So, what do you suppose is going on, up there?" Caridad asked, between kicks.

"Hell if I knew", Rona shrugged, irritated. "It's not like they tell us anything anymore. Not since we came here anyway."

"God, what are you two complaining about now?" Kennedy snapped as she closed in on the two girls. "If you guys would spend half the time training with the others as you do whining, maybe there's a better chance that you don't end up vamp bait."

"A little harsh on the girls, aren't you?" Robin pointed out.

"A _little_?" Caridad muttered.

After shooting the Latina potential a dirty look, Kennedy turned her hardened stare on the taller Robin. "Yeah, okay, so I'm a little tough. So what? Do you think the First or this other all-powerful what-chama-hooey is gonna care if we have hurt feelings or whatever?"

"Actually, they'd think the more, the merrier, but that's beside the point", Robin continued. "From what I hear, this hard-liner attitude you've got going is what lost you the training job in the first place."

"No, what lost me the job is that _Buffy_, in her all-knowing glory, decided to pick that trashy trick Faith as the new trainer", she spat, her blood boiling at the thought of her replacement. "Among her other great ideas, like putting us all under the same roof as her blood-sucking ex-boyfriend."

Robin scowled as Spike's face flashed in his mind's eye. He'd been itching to ram a stake through his heart for weeks, but he assured Buffy that he would not push it further after his failed attempt on the vampire's life in his garage. "Yeah, well…unfortunately, she's not budging on the Spike issue. And that, believe me, is after a _whole deal_ of trying."

Kennedy shook her head. "Not him. The other guy. Angel."

Robin and the other girls exchanged a glance of worry and alarm.

"Say that again…?", Robin asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Off their surprised glances, Kennedy continued. "Oh, right. Buffy, the Slayer, the one in charge of protecting our _lives_, didn't bother to mention this, but…that guy, Angel, who owns this hotel and is supposed to be this big-time _uber_-hero that could help us? Turns out – _surprise_! – he's a vampire."

Rona took a step back, surprised. "No way…"

Caridad shook her head, wanting desperately to deny that possibility. "You're wrong….Buffy…she wouldn't do that."

Kennedy snorted derisively. "Sure, because it's _not_ like she keeps a pet vampire hanging around the house all the time, _right_?"

Wood slowly walked up to the angry Potential. "Kennedy…who told you this?"

"Willow did" she replied, letting out a hollow laugh. "Oh…but hey, guess what, it gets even better."

Rona shook her head, still in shock over this new information. "Yeah, because it was so much fun finding out the first time."

Kennedy snorted. "Well, the fun just keeps on coming. It turns out that this same vampire, Angel…not only is he a vampire, but in the old days…he was a mega-evil one. A creep who called himself Angelus."

The name didn't register to either Caridad or Rona, both of whom shot Kennedy vacant stares.

However, Robin's eyes widened, his breath freezing in his throat. His voice was almost a whisper. "_What_?"

Kennedy noted his reaction, thankful that at least one person in the room knew the dangers that lay with that name. "I take it _you've_ heard of him."

Oh, did Robin _ever_ hear of him. "I grew up with a Watcher for most of my life, Kennedy. I doubt there's ever been a Slayer or Watcher that's never heard _that_ name. Basic underworld ABC's."

"Wait, hold up…who's Angelus?" Rona asked.

"A vampire. One of the _worst_ ever documented, maybe _the_ worst." Robin started to pace, his mind flooding with both concern for the girls and anger for being kept in the dark on this. "I've read some of his stories from old Watcher's Journals; he was as evil as any demon or man that ever walked God's green."

A nervous Caridad started to rub her arms as a chill passed through her. "He's…really _that_ bad?"

"Picture Ted Bundy, Ed Gein & Jeffrey Dahmer rolled into one, and if they had vampire super-speed & strength", Kennedy replied, painting a grim and deadly verbal image. "Only a _hundred_ times worse."

Caridad and Rona exchanged startled looks with one another.

Kennedy could see the gears turning in Robin's head as he slowly paced a few steps from them, recalling what he read about the infamous vampire. "His cruelty is legendary. He put up quite a body count in his day. I'd share some of the stories I've read about him with you girls, but…you need to sleep for the battle ahead. Hearing them would definitely _not_ do you any favors in that department."

"What, and knowing that we're sleeping with a mass-murdering vampire inside his giant freakin' hotel _would_?" Rona blurted out.

"Well, we've been living under the same roof with Spike for a while. And he doesn't seem so bad", Caridad pointed out, hesitantly.

Kennedy scoffed. "You mean 'William the Bloody' Spike? 'The Big Bad' Spike? The same Spike who I heard has been getting randomly homicidal-trigger-happy lately? Oh, yeah, that's a _real_ comfort when I try to get a good night's sleep."

Robin scowled at the mention of his mother's killer. He didn't care to mention that the trigger issue with Spike was apparently no longer a concern – largely because the only way he would care about Spike was if his hand was thrusting a wooden shaft into his chest. Besides, he had more pressing issues to tend to now if this Angel really _was_ the infamous Scourge of Europe.

Rona was fuming. "I can't believe this. It was bad enough worrying about one crazy vampire, but now _two_? Living under the same roof with _us_? I came here for protection, and instead I get _this_?"

"Yeah, and guess what else", Kennedy chimed in.

"Because the first two bombshells weren't enough", Rona muttered.

Kennedy turned and scowled at her, before resuming her blows to Buffy's credibility. "It turns out that our Big Kahuna, the great _Buffy_, was actually _dating_ Count Stalkula for a while. A real hot & heavy thing, from what I heard."

A confused Caridad frowned. "But…wasn't she involved with Spike?"

"Who knows? A girl that spends _that_ much time in the dark, guess it was a matter of time before she started getting goo-goo eyes for the monsters she's _supposed_ to be killing," a disdainful Kennedy snorted. "Hell, for all we know she probably drunk _Clem_ under the table a few times."

Rona grimaced. "Is that what's going to happen to _me_? I mean, I don't think I want to be dating vamps, just dusting them."

Robin cleared his throat loudly. His time handling teenagers as a high school principal taught him that young people, while sometimes well-meaning, had an attention span that made a fruit fly's seem envious. "I think we're losing focus here. I think our main concern should be the fact that possibly the most dangerous vampire in history is playing host to us."

Kennedy sighed. "Well, apparently, we've got some wiggle room. Willow says that Kolchak up there has a soul. It's some kind of curse or something .So the freak's on a tight leash, unless something sets him off and he loses the soul. If that happens, we're dog meat."

"But what sets it off?" Rona asked.

"According to Willow?" Kennedy looked around to see if she had their undivided attention, both out of practicality and ego. "One tiny little moment of perfect happiness."

Caridad frowned again. "That's a little vague, isn't it?"

Rona nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I mean, that could be anything, right?"

"Yeah," the Latina potential replied. "It could be a sex thing, like if he hooks up with Buffy."

"It _could_ be eating a _Twix bar_," exclaimed Rona.

"Do vampires eat Twix bars?," a curious Caridad wondered aloud.

"Guys, this is serious!", Kennedy snapped, incensed by their strange ability to go off-tangent. "We've got the end of the world on the horizon, two powerful Big Bads to deal with, and one of the players on our side of the board could easily start knocking us down one-by-one!"

"Look, guys" Wood tried to regain some order. "Let's just calm down for a second. We don't know any of this for a fact yet."

Kennedy began to protest. "But-"

"Jumping to conclusions at this point in the game is just going to get us all killed," Robin replied, with more authority in his voice. "I'll look into it and see if there's truth to any of this."

"And what if there is?" Kennedy asked.

Robin frowned pensively as his eyes landed on a stake left carelessly discarded on a nearby table. "Then can I count on you for backup, Kennedy?"

His actions did not go unnoticed as a dangerous gleam twinkled in Kennedy's eyes. "Oh, _hell_ yes."

* * *

The black GTX's engine roared with all the might that American custom-made horse- powered fury could muster as Angel zipped down the streets at breakneck speed, Buffy clinging for dear life at the passenger side.

"You know", Buffy said, as she braced herself on the dashboard. "On the list of things that attracted me to you…your driving skills? _Not_ one of them."

Angel's hands tightened around the steering wheel as his eyes stared straight ahead at the blur of concrete and asphalt the convertible was treading. "Sorry, but when it comes to an apocalypse, I can't actually afford to be doing my Miss Daisy imitation, can I?"

Buffy's eyes scrunched in confusion. "Who's Miss Daisy?"

Her sensitive ears picked up the vampire's low, disheartened grumble beneath his breath. "Okay. Now I _really_ feel old."

Buffy stifled the urge to giggle. Even after all this time, she still had a hard time remembering how old, truly old, Angel really was. An ancient soul trapped in a young (and gorgeous) man's body. No wonder he had such a hard time understanding the younger generation references like the Beavis and Butthead analogy she used earlier.

Angel sniffed the air for clues as he continued to search for clues on trailing the teens.

"Any luck with the bloodhound act?" Buffy asked as she observed him doing the scenty-smelly thing he always did when they were together.

"Nothing," he ground out in frustration. "Which means they probably hit the sewers."

"Guessing that's your boy's handiwork?" Buffy ventured.

The vampire grimly nodded. "Connor's smarter than you'd imagine. He must have figured I'd be able to trace his scent above ground. That's why I'm not getting any scent yet. Not Dawn's raspberry lipgloss, not the fibers on Connor's shirt, or Cordy's lavender cream rinse…"

"Lavender?" Buffy wondered aloud, another jealous spike rising inside her at realizing her ex-boyfriend's familiarity with her once-frenemy's hair scent.

"Yeah, it's her favorite," he absently added.

"And you would know this…how?" she asked, straining to sound innocent and not at all like a jealous ex.

"Well, gee, it's not like I've been smelling it on her every day for the last three years," he sarcastically replied.

"Wow, driving while snarking. Impressive multi-tasking you picked up here in Tinseltown," she tartly retorted.

"Buffy, do you mind? I'm trying to concentrate here," he sternly replied.

The blonde Slayer held up her hands in defense. "Fine, fine, sorry. Go."

The silence stretched between them for a few uncomfortable moments.

"So, um, about this thing with Cordelia…"

She saw Angel's jaw visibly tense, the muscles near his jaw line flex in and out.

"When you said she meant, um, 'more than that'…exactly how much more are we talking here?"

Angel couldn't help but to groan. Of all the times to get into _that_ conversation – which he was dreading worse than karaoke night at Caritas – this was definitely not the best time. "Buffy…"

"No, no, you're right," she sighed unhappily. "I'm sorry. You…you're right. This isn't the time. We have more important things to…worry about. World to save. Kids to rescue. Sacred duties…that need to be…upheld. Vows we've been…sworn to…uphold. And…promises…promises we need to…did I already mention 'uphold'?"

She mentally began to slap herself silly. Rambling on like an idiot was definitely not the best way to make her former honey swoon. But this Angel-Cordelia thing was really getting under her skin. She always figured the two would become closer after all their years fighting alongside each other. But just how close did the former cheerleader and her lover – _ex-lover! EX!_ she chided herself – really become over time?

Angel's lips tightened tensely. "Oh, good."

Buffy frowned. "What?"

"Vampires."

With sudden abandon, the convertible swerved into an impossibly hard right, forcing Buffy to cling for dear life to the dashboard as the sound of tires screeching echoing around their ears as the car came to a sudden dead stop. Just to the right of them, a gang of vampires, 6 of them by Buffy's count, were trying to make a late-night snack out of a 24-7 convenience store owner and his wife within their own shop.

"This is SO **not** happening right now", Buffy gritted her teeth.

"Yeah, rude, aren't they?" Angel sighed in annoyance, watching the frustration pour from Buffy's pretty face. Although secretly, he had never been happier to see his wretched undead brethren in his overlong life as opposed to keeping up this uncomfortable conversation with his old flame. "Let's go tell them that."

The vampires were so busy uprooting the store, turning over the snack bins and holding their victims at bay that they didn't even notice the two very powerful, very pissed off warriors standing just outside the trashed store window.

"Let me guess", Buffy loudly crowed, drawing the wild-eyed stares of every bloodsucker in the store. "You're trying to rack up points in your community clean-up service, but, darn, all the parks were already cleaned out, so you tried top make a short cut by making a big mess, _then_ cleaning it up."

"Yeah", one of the vampires hissed in reply. "We're about to clean up, all right."

"Sorry, guys", Angel shrugged. "You break it—"

His hand jutted out in the air as one fledgling vamp foolishly tried to leap at Angel, only to find himself impaled on the stake that suddenly jutted out from under his wrist, turning to dust one second later.

"…You buy it."

"Holy crap! It's **Angel**!", one of them cried out. By now, Angel's M.O. had become the stuff of legend around the L.A. streets. A mysterious man, dressed in black from head to toe, a lone warrior who appeared out of nowhere to wreak havoc upon the demon populace of L.A.'s nightlife.

"And I brought a pal", he smirked, motioning to Buffy. "Fellas, give a big L.A. welcome to my good friend Buffy Summers."

No sooner did he say that when Buffy's hand shot out and produced a stake.

"Did he happen to mention that I'm a Vampire Slayer?" Buffy coyly asked.

For any self-respecting vampire, those two words meant one thing – death.

"_**Slayer**_!" one of the remaining four vampires shouted before they swarmed on the two heroes.

Angel grimly chuckled to himself as he and the Slayer went to work. He watched Buffy throw herself with zealous abandon into the fight. Even after all this time, she was still as good as he remembered her to be. No, better, actually. When she was younger, her moves were powerful, but unfocused. She was good, but sorely in need of training. It was evident that years of training had paid off as the honed, lethal fighter unleashed her might upon the unfortunate vampires. Her eyes gleamed like a vine tiger measuring its prey as she unleashed a furious flurry of martial arts-kickboxing combinations on her dimwitted foes. He smiled to himself as he overheard her call out glibly, "_Price check! Ass-whooping! Aisle 12_!" while she hurled one unlucky vampire spinning headfirst into the coffee station just near the register. The vampire howled in agony as the scalding hot dark fluid poured freely upon him. Even on a good day, Buffy could still put a fierce hurting on the monster community. Catch her on a bad day, in a hurry, or if she was just plain pissed off? No infinite help from any amount of deities would be able to help you…case in point, one could ask the late Glory.

Buffy afforded herself a look over her shoulder as she placed a well-guided Savate kick to the head of one of the vampires. She was silently pleased that Angel's fighting style had seemed to improve. He was a gifted fighter from when she knew him in Sunnydale, but there was something bolder about his style. As good as he was back when they were together, it always seemed to Buffy that he was holding back. At first, it annoyed her because she believed it to be the super-protective complex he had for shielding her from danger. Then she considered that maybe it was because of the demon within him, the fear that if he allowed himself to enjoy the fight too much, to get more ruthless, more vicious, even it he was just killing demons, that he would lose his soul. It was part of that eternal struggle that Angel went through every day. But now, as she saw him tearing mercilessly into the two vampires he fought, allowing himself a smirk while cracking one of the demons with a brutal Shaolin Tiger Claw strike to the skull as he whirled around and crushed the ribs of the other one with a Muay Thai roundhouse kick, he seemed more at ease with himself. More willing to reconcile the fact that his demon was as much a part of him as his soul was. That gave him a new, deadly edge in battle that she had never seen before; and she liked it.

"Buffy! Time check!", Angel called out. As much of a needed break as this was, they didn't have anymore time to waste. They needed to get to Dawn and Connor.

Buffy winced. "_Oh_! Right." Tightening her grip on her stake, she dodged the clumsy swing of one of her opponents before plunging the stake in his chest. Without even looking, she deftly thrust it backwards into the heart of the other one, who tried to sneak up behind her, though not quietly enough for her well-trained ears. Both vampires stared dumbfounded at one another before they exploded into twin piles of dust, leaving Buffy grinning in satisfaction.

Angel followed soon after. His assailants exchanged a wordless glance, before charging him from both sides, simultaneously. Angel smirked. _Ballgame_, he thought to himself as he waited patiently for them to come within striking distance…

…and then his stake-thrusters shot out from under his sleeves. One double explosion of dust later, the Champion disdainfully brushed the ashy remnants of his defeated foes off his leather coat. The fight was over.

His eyes swept over Buffy, checking for injuries. "Well, that was…inconveniently timed."

"True", Buffy shrugged, her breathing quick and hurried despite her satisfied smile. "But still fun."

Angel couldn't help but to grin. "Getting a little slow there, eh, Buff? Time was I could remember you being able to dust six of them by yourself without breaking a sweat."

"Please", Buffy scoffed, a teasing smile on her face. "I still dusted mine faster than you did. Guess the big city's making you go soft, old man."

His deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. " 'Old man,' huh? Still spry enough to whip your butt, little girl."

A perfect golden eyebrow arched in suggestion on Buffy's face. "Ooh…sounds like a fun way to spend a Saturday night."

A wave of nostalgia hit them both, the minds of both Slayer and Champion drifting back to simpler times, nights of patrolling cemeteries, the rush of pounding on bad guys, the thrill of stolen kisses and dull ache of goodbyes at the end of the night. A more innocent time…

The dazed look that both former lovers shared suddenly shattered when a glass bottle of Snapple dangling precariously over the edge of the obliterated refrigerator behind them gave into gravity and shattered loudly all over the floor.

Buffy felt a blush coming on. "We really shouldn't be flirting like this when the kids need us to save them from getting killed, huh?"

"Point taken," Angel chuckled nervously. "Let's go."

As they quickly stepped through the discarded potato chip bags, shards of broken glass and the unpleasant mixture of soda and coffee seeping everywhere, the shop owner called out, "Bless you both, you saved – "

"Yeah, yeah," both warriors muttered as they went back to resume their chase.

* * *

People often wonder what goes through their mind in the moments of realizing you're going to die.

Not so for Dawn Summers. She'd been through that 'unique' experience more times than she could count. And the thoughts that ran through her mind were almost always the same: _Oh, crap, I'm screwed._

Now, seeing Connor, knife dangling precariously over his head, pointy end aiming at her, the same Connor whom she had almost kissed, _twice_, within the last hour, only one thought ran through her mind:

_Oh, crap I'm REALLY screwed_.

She stared up almost hopelessly into the eyes of the young man, who stared back impassively at her.

Then, she saw it.

It was a subtle gesture, a fraction of a movement. But it was there. Connor's eyebrows tilted up slightly. Dawn's eyes questioned him for a moment, a brief moment, before understanding flooded her brain. She held up her bound hands, a protective gesture.

Then without warning, the weapon descended down upon her…

…and slashed the bonds binding her wrists. In one fluid motion, Connor spun on his heels and charged head on towards 'Cordelia', a panther springing on its prey.

A jolt of hope surged through Dawn as she watched Connor leap into action. Maybe she was right. After all, if Connor could go toe-to-toe with a Slayer like Buffy and hold his own, 'Cordelia' didn't stand an Andrew's chance in hell against him. Maybe this was going to be easier than she thought—

—and then, a red jolt of energy slammed Connor backwards, sprawling onto the hard concrete floor.

"_Connor_!" she screamed, as she crawled towards the boy, who lay coughing, clutching his ribs in agony.

A pair of cruel, hard hands clawed into her long brown hair and jerked her back, catching her off guard. She let out a terrified squeal as the icy blade of the meat cleaver pressed up against her neck.

'Cordelia' glared loathingly at Connor as she kept her left arm locked in an Anaconda-like grip on Dawn's neck, the other arm keeping the deadly weapon just above the jugular of the young girl.

"Nice try, Junior." Dawn could hear the older woman's snarl in her ear, feral and cruel, a sound completely alien from Cordelia's mouth. "You think I couldn't smell a set-up a mile away? What, the sister of one of my worst enemies just _happens_ to fall into your lap and you _don't_ expect my brain to scream 'Danger, Will Robinson'? Just how stupid do you think I am?"

He staggered to his feet, spitting out a trickle of blood from the wound on his lip. "Let her go", he growled, anger and fear flashing through his blue eyes.

"What, having a change of heart?", 'Cordelia' smiled sweetly, before tightening her grip on Dawn, the youngest Summers gasping for air. "Just a few seconds ago, you were all gung-ho for the sacrificial lamb shpeal."

"If you hurt her..."

'Cordelia' chuckled, a once-gentle sound now full of malice and spite. "Sweetie, you've got it all wrong. _You_ hurt her. You hurt her the very second you put her in the middle of this. But then again, that's you, isn't it?" Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "Poor, headstrong, stupid Connor. Never listening to reason, never thinking, just acting on whatever thought flitters through your tiny little mind. God, no wonder every parent you had kept on passing the buck with you. I mean, raising a kid like _you_? Please, tie _my_ tubes any day."

He knew what she was trying to do. More mind games. He had to tune her out, not let her in, like his mother said. Tell the harsh voices whispering in the back of his mind, taunting him with no mercy or empathy, to shut up. He promised Dawn that he would keep her safe. He would not go back on his promise now. "You're not going to take Dawn."

'Cordelia' cruelly smirked. "Oh, but I think I am. In fact, I'm thinking I'm going to waltz on out of here with little Dawnie here, and I'm thinking you're going to stay put."

Dawn's eyes widened as she heard the doppelganger's plan announced. It didn't take a genius to figure out that if 'Cordelia' was allowed to leave the factory with Dawn in tow, Vegas odds had her dead by sunrise, 2 to 1.

Connor's voice was a low growl. "Then you're even crazier than I've given you credit for."

"Well isn't that the lunatic calling the squirrel nuts?" His eyes met hers, "That's right, little boy. I _am_ crazy. You don't know me, you don't know what I'm going to do next. I slaughtered _thousands_ of men, women and children over a few short weeks, and I feel more upset about the hangnail I got yesterday. Little Dawn here?"

She dug her nails into the squirming teenager's neck, drawing a squeal from Dawn.

"_Really_ not a priority. How 'bout it, lover? Think you can move fast enough on me before I make poor little Dawnie here into the world's largest Pez dispenser?"

Connor froze, fear and indecision locking his movements. He knew he could get to them before either female could bat an eyelash. But if he failed? Then Dawn would be dead. And, just like everything else that had gone wrong in the last few weeks, it would be all his fault. Again.

Dawn could see the hesitation in his eyes. He was fast, no doubt, but if he was anything like his dad, she knew Connor would not dare to put his speed to the test in this situation, where the only thing standing between the meat cleaver and Dawn's jugular was a hair's space and a quick, fatal slash of Fake Cordy's hand.

As Dawn's fist tightened trying to create much needed distance between her slender throat and the deadly blade, the cold feel of the vial under her sleeve suddenly drew her attention. In all the panic, she had all but forgotten about the ace literally up her sleeve. She knew the timing of this had to be just right, as it could mean the difference between being a hero, or a martyr.

"Connor?", Dawn rasped out, trying to catch his eyes.

Uncertainly, the boy quietly replied. "Yeah?"

"Do me a favor..?"

Though his eyes scrunched in confusion, he nodded.

"Oh, how sweet. Last requests?", 'Cordelia' sneered, keeping her eyes trained on Connor as her grip on Dawn held fast.

The girl gave him a weak smile. "Close your eyes."

Connor's eyes widened for a moment as he suddenly understood what the young girl meant.

A confused 'Cordelia' frowned. _What…?_

"_FIAT LUX_!" shouted Dawn, just as her free hand thrust a frail glass vial towards the floor.

Connor barely had time to raise his arms to shield his eyes as the shattering glass vial exploded into a brilliant flash of white hot sunlight. 'Cordelia' shrieked, completely unprepared as the blinding luminance of the sun-spell jolted her head backwards, her eyes flashing with disorienting patterns.

Dawn felt the temptress's grip on her throat loosen, and she took full advantage of that. Her elbow jerked upwards, connecting solidly with her captor's pixyish nose. 'Cordelia' yelped in pain, the simultaneous combination of blindness and stinging pain forcing her to release her grip on her captive.

The youngest Summers went sprawling as she hit the floor, hard, her eyes squinting through the lingering presence of Willow's light-show-in-a-bottle.

"Molly! _Now_!"

One second barely passed after the words left her mouth, when the whistling sound of an arrow could be heard.

Dawn could see, if only just barely, the meat cleaver knocked out of 'Cordelia's hand. It was a spectacular shot, considering the angling and the visual impairment that the sun-spell was no doubt causing Molly. And, in that moment, she knew she picked wisely in selecting Molly for this search-and-rescue gig.

"Hey!", she heard 'Cordelia' protest, no doubt feeling the absence of her weapon.

"_Now_, Connor!" shouted Dawn.

'Cordelia' barely had time to adjust her sight, or raise her hands in defense, when the outline of a tall body appeared suddenly in her blurred line of vision.

A stunned 'Cordelia' could only blurt out, "Oh, shi—"

—before one quick, hard punch from Connor connected with her skull, sending her careening to the floor, motionless.

The brilliant light had started to fade, and Connor quickly found himself at Dawn's side. "Are you alright?", he asked softly, his sharp eyes checking Dawn for any visible injuries.

"Okaley-dokely", Dawn groaned, grasping Connor's arms tightly as he helped her up.

She peered up at him, as he stared back at her, his grip firm yet gentle. "You really had me going there for a second."

Connor ruefully smiled. "Sorry 'bout that. I was just…playing to the part."

She smirked. "L.A…It figures."

"GUYS!", blurted a set of eager voices behind them. Startled, the teens whipped their heads around to see Molly and Vi, each sporting a pair of sunglasses, running out from behind their hiding spot.

"Okay, _that_ was sooo cool!", Vi gushed.

"Are you guys okay?", Molly asked, tucking her sunglasses away in her jacket, her eyes filled with concern.

Dawn looked briefly at Connor, who gave her a sloppy half-smile, before turning her gaze to her friends. "Swell. Nice bonus for the Robin Hood antics, Moll."

Molly turned to Vi, smiling triumphantly. "_Told_ you I don't miss."

Vi rolled her eyes. "We're never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

"Oh, not for a least a few _weeks_, I'm sure", Dawn said as her mouth turned up in an amused smirk. She took a look down at 'Cordelia', completely prone and defeated. "Wow…I can't believe it actually _worked_!"

Off the sudden surprised glances of her friends, she quickly amended her comment. "Not like I doubted that _would_!...or that it was _supposed_ to, or…Hey! You guys? We _did_ it!"

"Yeah", Connor mused, as his eyes swept over the scene, his paramour 'Cordelia' laying harmlessly on the floor, his newfound friends unharmed and Dawn…was there a word in his vocabulary that did justice to her? 'Amazing' and 'incredible' just didn't seem like enough. "Yeah, we did, didn't we?"

"It was quite a little adventure we had, wasn't it?", Molly grinned.

"Totally!", Vi beamed. "I mean, we dusted vamps, bagged the 'Big Bad', and lived to tell the tale? This is _sooo_ going to blow Kennedy's bragging rights clear out of the water!"

Dawn chuckled. "Wait 'till we tell Buffy about this. She's gonna be so—"

An earth-shattering 'BOOM!' echoed through the factory as the steel door exploded from its hinges. A set of legs, one belonging to an angry blonde Slayer and another to a very unhappy dark-haired vampire, dangled briefly in the air as the heavy door was flung with the ease of a Frisbee across the length of the floor.

"Dawn!", Buffy's voice called out at the same time Angel shouted, "Connor!"

The eyes of both warriors rested incredulously on the stunned faces of the young teenage heroes, both groups staring silently in awe of each other.

"Uh…hi, guys", Dawn sheepishly squeaked out.

"Are you alright?", Angel asked, concern flooding his voice as they came closer to their charges, his keen eyes searching them for any signs of injury.

"We're good", Dawn sighed. Her smile suddenly brightened, gesturing grandly to the floor, where 'Cordelia' lay unconscious. "And, hey, lookie what _we've_ got!"

"Cordy", Angel gasped softly, before quickly ducking to the sight of the body of his Seer. He took a look for any visible injuries. Whatever this thing mimicking the real Cordelia Chase might have done, it did not change the fact that somewhere in that body was his best friend.

Once again, that feeling of envy stabbed through Buffy as he saw how tenderly he touched the unconscious brunette. Almost immediately, she felt ashamed. Cordelia's soul was in mortal danger, and all she could think about was this sensation of insecurity that she hadn't been able to shake ever since Angel uttered four words – "_She's more than that_" – that have been nagging her relentlessly.

Angel's eyes stopped when he saw a bright red mark marring her delicate cheekbones. His eyes shot to Connor, knowing that only he, among this group, could have the power for such a blow.

"I…I held back as much as I could", Connor explained quietly, suddenly finding his father's glare more intimidating than normal. "But she had Dawn at knifepoint, and there wasn't time—"

"It's okay, Connor", Angel sighed, his gaze softening on his son. "You did what you had to."

Connor's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You mean you're not mad?"

"Speak for yourself", Buffy cut in, angry green orbs resting on the wiry boy. "I go through a lot of trouble to protect my sister from things _exactly_ like this, and now I'm hearing that our resident Big Bad had her at **knifepoint**?"

Dawn quickly jumped to the boy's rescue. "It's wasn't Connor's fault, Buffy! It-it-it was _my_ idea, _really_! I mean, I was just trying to help Cordy, and, well, they kinda volunteered to go along and make sure that, well, you know, that I didn't die or anything and we had this whole plan worked out, and it worked out great…well, except for that sleazy vampire gang we ran into under the sewers—" Off her sister's wide-eyed stare, Dawn quickly added, "But we fought them off and then we managed to find our way up here to Cordy, and that went _perfectly_…I mean, there was the whole knife-under-my-throat thing, but—"

"_Please_ stop talking, before you give me a premature coronary!", Buffy exclaimed, her hands on her hips, reminding Dawn of the look Mom would give her whenever she poured too much syrup on her waffles when she was five years old. "So, you mean to tell me that you, Dawn Summers, of the all knowing age of 16, not only whipped up this crazy hare-brained scheme, but you _endangered_ your friends, some of whom happen to Potential Slayers under _my_ care, ran away from the hotel without giving _anyone_ aside from poor Lorne's bruised face notification that you were going, ran into a gang of, _hello_, **vampires**, and nearly ended up having your _throat_ _slit_ by an evil doppelganger of our _friend _who just happens to be in cahoots with the most powerful force of evil the world has ever _seen_?"

Dawn shifted her gaze down to her sneakers. "We didn't get hurt, or anything."

The intensity in her older sister's eyes made her shrink even further. "The night's still young, L'il Sis. _Very_ young."

"Sewer vamps", Angel echoed, his face lighting up in recognition. "But the only gang that nests between here and the hotel are Cage and his crew."

Buffy turned a quizzical look to Angel. "Who's Cage?"

"Vampire", Angel sneered in disgust, thinking of the irritating demon. "Annoying little pest, but his gang has made themselves quite a nuisance for the team and I in the past."

She turned her 'Mom-face' back to Dawn, but continued to talk to Angel. "Is he dangerous?"

"He _was_", Connor smirked. "Now he's just dust."

Angel stood up, facing his son with a scrutinizing gaze. "You took down Cage by _yourselves_?"

"Sure did", Connor nodded, an air of cockiness surrounding him. "Dawn and I took care of them."

A harsh "_ahem_" emanated from behind him, where an annoyed and glaring Molly and Vi stood, their gazes expectant.

"Uh…we all did", Connor hastily added. The Potentials exchanged pleased smiles.

He watched his father's face morph from strong parental disapproval to something akin to impressed, perhaps even proud.

"And we totally kicked demon ass!", Vi chimed in, her excitement bubbling over. "I even got to dust two of them!"

"I got one, too", Molly added, just as enthusiastic as her partner-in-crime. "And Connor was just amazing, with the fighting. And Dawnie really threw them for a loop when she told them that she was really Buffy, I mean you should 'ave seen the look on their faces when—"

"You _impersonated_ me?" Buffy exclaimed, indignantly, as her gaze fixed back on her sister.

A meek "uh-huh" was Dawn's only reply.

"But if it helps, they were really scared when they heard your name", Vi added, hoping to be helpful in Dawn's plight.

The Slayer stared hard at the youngest Summers, who seemed to shrivel from her gaze. Dawn expected to hear the words "grounded forever", "so busted", or "house arrest" any moment, when her sister's next words surprised her:

"How scared were they?"

A small smile crept onto Dawn's face. "They _power_-freaked. They were going on and on about you killing Glory, staking the Master, beating up Angelus…you know, the classics. I never thought it was possible for dead guys to get even paler. I think one of the vamps actually _wet_ himself."

Buffy let a pleased grin spread across her lips. "Well, who could blame them? I _am_ pretty bad-ass."

Angel couldn't help but to chuckle. Off Buffy's frown, he quickly added, "Oh, yeah. Super-bad."

"A-a-and we did manage to beat you guys to the punch on Cordy", Dawn added, grinning faintly. Off Angel and Buffy's stares, she backpedaled. "Which is a good thing, because of the, uh, apocalypse..."

Buffy turned her eyes from Angel to 'Cordelia' and back to Dawn.

"Well, you did grab Fake Cordy", she nodded.

"Yes, we did", Dawn smiled.

"And it looks like you got out without a scratch", Buffy added, before ticking her eyes to the small trail of blood along Dawn's neck. "_Figuratively_ speaking."

A nervous chuckle escaped Dawn. "So, we did good, right?"

Buffy gave a relenting smile. "Yeah, I guess you did."

_I can't believe I'm actually going to get away with this! This is sooo cool!_ a giddy Dawn inwardly - and gleefully - shouted.

"So, I guess that means we're not—"

Buffy smiled brightly at her little sister. "Oh, no. You're _sooo_ grounded."

Dawn's jaw dropped. "_Grounded_?"

Buffy nodded. "Into dust, grounded. Indefinitely, grounded. All the way through to China, grounded. So-grounded-they'll-have-to-invent-a-new-meaning-for-the-kind-of-grounded-you're-in-cuz-_that's_-how-grounded-you-are, grounded."

Dawn couldn't believe it. It just wasn't _fair_! If it wasn't for them, the gang wouldn't even have a _chance_ to save Cordelia. They might have even stopped her from ending the world, for all they knew; they were heroes, damn it! Heroes don't get grounded, they get praised. Keys to the city, ticker-tape parades, the whole nine yards…or in her case, at least a raise in her allowance. But sent to her room?

She felt a whine coming on, and in a huge way. "But, _Buffy_—"

"Don't you 'But, Buffy' _me_, Kamikaze Girl", Buffy shook her head. "You've been grounded the moment you decided to take your pals on this little Crazy Capade. The rest is just details."

Vi shrugged. "Tough break, Dawn."

"But it could've been worse, mind you", Molly smiled sympathetically.

"Oh, don't think I've forgotten about you two", Buffy cast her eyes on the two suddenly very nervous Potentials. "I don't know about grounded, but it looks to me like you two just volunteered for kitchen duty for the next two weeks."

Molly and Vi gaped at their leader, stunned, before blurting out, "_What_? But—"

"Don't _make_ me push it to a _month_", Buffy sternly warned, the look on her face clearly indicating that she meant business.

Off hearing Connor's snicker, Angel turned to his son, disapprovingly. "I wouldn't be laughing so hard if I were you, kiddo."

"You can't ground me", Connor scoffed, bristling at the notion of Angel taking any parental authority over him.

Angel smirked, knowingly. "Even if that _was_ true, it doesn't change the fact that your _mother_ would like to have a talk with you when we get back."

Connor's face suddenly fell. "Is she…is she mad?", he quietly asked.

Angel patted his son's shoulder, smiling. "And _how_."

Dawn stifled a laugh at the look on Connor's face, a look of worry creasing his boyishly handsome features. She could have sworn he was pouting.

Angel reached down and scooped up 'Cordelia' in his arms. Despite whatever was said earlier, Buffy's heart went out to him as he stared sadly at the body of his…of _their_ friend. Buffy had been down this road more times than one person ever could, or should have been. Angel, Willow, Anya, even Faith…each of them hurt in different ways.

She walked towards him, their eyes locked in sadness. She placed her hand on his arm, felt the muscles tense beneath her touch.

"We'll get her back", Buffy assured him softly. "We will."

Angel nodded, his eyes less certain than his words. "I know."

"We'd _better_", Dawn piped up from behind them. She smirked. "Hate to think we got grounded for nothing."

A round of small smiles went up among the group as they headed wordlessly out of the factory, their friend in arms…

…unaware that from the rafters, the First Evil, in the form of Buffy Summers, watched.

And seethed.

* * *

To Be Continued…

A/N : Sorry, I had a big surprise ending, but it took me all weekend to write this, and I've got work early in the morning, so I'll have to save it for the next update.

Until then!


	16. Part 14 Guess Who's Comin' to Armageddon

A/N: Hey, whatever happened to that Buffy Fan person who used to give me such a hard time years ago? It's like the dude/ette just poofed and vanished…oh, well. Thanks to supernatural-fan18, Trendy-Vamp1991, BloodyTink & angelplusbuffyequals4ever for your reviews. You guys RULE!

Hope you guys enjoy - and please review and comment on - the next chapter of:

* * *

**Bring Me To Life - A BtVS/Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 14 - Guess Who's Comin' to Armageddon**

* * *

**Catholic monastery - Gilroy, CA**

**One Night Later**

* * *

Night time always brought a peaceful quiet to this particular place of worship. A place where men of the cloth could find the solace, peace and tranquility needed to worship, to pray, to do God's work.

Yes, Tobias did love what the night brought to this humble monastery. After he had finished his chores, he had retreated to his own private quarters for a round of private meditation. However, even for the most patient of men, tapping into the subtle and rewarding ways of enlightenment can grow…wearisome.

Therefore, Tobias thought it would behoove him to indulge himself with a walk through the garden. The monastery, while simple in nature and structure, did host a most stunning display of trees and rare flowers, gathered from virtually every corner of the world by the order's diverse membership.

The chimes of the bells in the tower drew his attention. They were being graced by a visitor this evening.

Eventually, Tobias reached the door, along with several of his brethren. When the door swung open, it revealed a tall man, bearing clerical clothing.

"Evenin', gents," the man drawled. "I don't suppose I could trouble y'all for a place to spend the night?"

"No, no trouble at all. We would welcome any within our humble home, especially a fellow man of the cloth."

The so-called preacher smiled. "Well, isn't that swell." He let himself in, taking an appreciative look around the modest hallway, decorated with various religious icons. "By the way, Caleb's the name. And, I must say, it just warms me to the bone, all this hospitality for a guy who drove halfway across the country non-stop."

"Surely, then, you must be tired from such a journey. While we don't have much, we have more than enough to provide you with nourishment after your travels -"

"Padre," Caleb raised his hand. "While I'm sure you probably serve the best corn meal slop this side of Knoxville, that's not exactly what I'm a-cravin'."

Tobias wasn't sure why, but there was something in the pit of his stomach that was telling him not to trust this man. Something that told him how, clerical collar or otherwise, there was something _wrong_ about Caleb.

But being the ever-pious monk that he was, he could not bring himself to turn his back on an exhausted traveler. Although the man seemed nowhere near as tired as such a described journey would make a man… "Oh. Well, then, what is it that we can -"

But Caleb kept on walking until he reached a statue of the Virgin Mary. "You know, there's an expression. 'Behind every good man, lies a better woman'." He chuckled disdainfully. "Now, I reckon I can't be so dog-gone sure 'bout that, but it always made me wonder…'if that's true, then what lies behind the woman?'"

With that, Caleb gave a hard one-handed push on the statue. The alarmed monks were startled, but noticed that the statue, rather than fall, instead swung open to reveal something unknown to them all.

"Something even better," Caleb smirked, pleased with the sight.

He entered the hidden room, and the monks followed, either through distrust or curiosity. It was a poorly lit room, but Caleb was prepared for that, grabbing a nearby candle sconce and lighting it with his pocket lighter.

"Betcha silly little book types like you didn't even think to look here, did ya?" His eyes scanned the room, searching for something only he seemed to know was there. "Don't fault you none, though. _Destiny_ has a way of revealing itself piece by piece, brick by brick. After all, the Lord does work in mysterious ways. But don't you worry none. After all…"

Caleb broke off momentarily as something caught his eye. An old painting, hung plainly on the wall to the left of him. He approached it and casually tossed the painting to the side…revealing a mysterious message, Greek characters inscribed on the wall, delivering a message in Latin.

Caleb smiled, his dark eyes glittering with excitement. "…the light eventually reveals all. So, boys, take a gander. See the light…that will herald the coming of the Lord. The _true_ Lord."

Caleb's eyes eagerly scanned the message. Being a clergyman once upon a lifetime ago, he was quite familiar with the dead language.

He whispered the translation, "_Non tibi est. Ei solae_…"

Immediately, Caleb's eyes widened, and his smile faded. A black rage engulfed his eyes - literally, as his eyeballs actually morphed into large opaque pools - as he spun around to face the monks. Seeing Tobias as the closest in his range, Caleb reached out and grabbed the frightened monk by the throat, squeezing hard.

"Where is it?" he whispered, his voice a deadly hiss.

Tobias was immediately panicked. "I-I don't know what you're -"

"_Don't_ play stupid with me, boy!" Caleb bit out, his fingers tightening like a vise. "You little sack-wearing trolls spend every dad-gum day and night inside this little shack, and you mean to tell me you don't know where it is? I want answers, boy, and I want 'em _ten seconds ago_, lest you make me…ornery."

"P-p-p-please," Tobias stammered, staring in awe at the man's inhuman black eyes. It was like looking into an endless, lifeless void. "I don't understand what you…we knew nothing of what lay in here. You -"

The monk found himself suddenly airborne as he was flung effortlessly into the air, colliding headfirst into the brick wall behind him. Dazed, Tobias could only stare in horror as this horrifying man - this supposed man of the cloth - jerked him up by the scruff of his neck.

"I don't recommend you boys try anything, now," Caleb addressed the stunned clergymen behind him, still maintaining his iron grip on Tobias's throat. "Wouldn't want this l'il fella here to go all to pieces, now, would ya?"

Caleb leaned in menacingly towards his petrified quarry, his enraged black eyes promising a thousand painful deaths. "Now, I reckon I'm about to lose it, padre. So, I'm gonna give you one last shot at giving me what I want. After that?" The force by which he squeezed the man's throat caused the trembling Tobias to gurgle sickeningly. "I reckon I lose it. And maybe you'll lose something, too."

"Mercy…I beg…of you," the terrified monk gurgled as Caleb let him go enough to talk, as he felt the heat of the nearby torch on the wall. "I-I don't know…w-what it is…that you seek…but we have…nothing -"

His words were cut off as Caleb violently slammed him against the wall. The 'priest' regarded Tobias intensely, staring at him as if his deranged gaze could somehow jar loose the secret he desired from the smaller man. After several intense moments, Caleb pulled back slightly, and laughed in arid fashion.

"Well, I'll be…you really _don't_ know where it is, _do_ you?" Caleb chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "Well, ain't that a right peach? A man drives all the way up to this God-forsaken state looking for something, and he can't even get any good customer service."

As he spoke, Caleb stuck his free hand - actually, a ring with a strange symbol on it - into the torch's flames, watching as the ring glowed a hot orange color.

Caleb smiled as he felt the benign monk tremble in his grasp, all the while holding the blazing ring close to his victim's face. "Well, now…doesn't look like you can give me what I came for, does it? But like the song goes…you can't always get what you want, but sometimes -"

With that, Caleb suddenly jammed the burning-hot ring into Tobias's face. The searing pain was instantaneous as the monk screamed in agony, the audible sizzling of his own flesh crackling in his ears as he was branded like an animal.

"You get what you need," the man in black hissed, his eyes glazed over in sadistic pleasure.

Finally, one of the monks could take no more and rushed to pull the false clergyman off of his brethren. Caleb, a look of annoyance on his face, dropped Tobias, turned and simply swatted the holy man away, sending him flying headfirst into a nearby wall…

…which was followed by a loud and sobering 'CRACK!' sound made by his neck snapping.

The monk lay still. Dead.

The gasps of horror by the on-looking monks only made Caleb's chilling smile widen.

"Gentlemen," the servant of the First Evil said, an eerie sense of vicious delight betraying the gentle tone in his Southern drawl. "I do believe it's time you said your prayers."

Tobias could only watch in numb shock as the 'preacher' began crushing skulls, breaking necks and spilling the blood of his brothers...all with incredible ease. All with a murderous smile on his face.

_Dear God, what kind of demon have you let into Your house tonight? _he silently prayed.

Survival instinct kicked in as Tobias suddenly scrambled up to run, clutching the scarred flesh of his cheek as he hurtled through the secret entrance and then fled down the stone corridor.

Behind him, the screams of death and terror plagued his footsteps as Caleb massacred the rest of the monks with a song in his heart.

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles**

**Now**

* * *

It had been an hour since Angel and Buffy had disappeared off into the night to do their Shining-White-Knights routine and save the missing teens and Cordelia…well, the latter probably not as likely, given their depressing pre-slay pep talk.

Faith and Spike sat on the steps of the staircase leading to the first floor, while a solemn Gunn leaned against one of the pillars to the left of them, while an equally glum Fred sat on the steps to his right, soft brown eyes downcast. Xander leaned against one of the red loveseats in the lobby, a cloud of gloom hovering over him. One that Lorne, standing to the left of the so-called 'Heart of the Scooby Gang', could feel the pea soup thickness of with ease.

Faith couldn't help but to sigh uneasily. She wasn't going to lie - she'd never thought much of Cordelia. She'd always thought of the ex-cheerleader as little more than a snooty, lippy clotheshorse - even before the Beastmaster had given her that wintry greeting when she'd arrived at the hotel, to take on the Beast and Angelus - so, truthfully, Faith couldn't say her impending death would be a heartbreaker.

Not that she wished ill on the brunette seer; hell, she might actually say a prayer for her, if she still bothered to do the monotheistic thing. But if Cordelia died, Faith knew she'd be able to survive it.

It didn't look to her like Spike was too broken up about Cordelia's plight, either. There was a serious, but not grieving look on that good-looking face of his…

Faith took a moment to shake that thought out of her head, that strange vibe she was getting from the flaxen-haired vampire rearing its not-so-ugly head again. With what Spike had told her earlier about him and Buffy, it was obvious there was some unresolved tension of the wriggly variety still there, and after her play at Angel - and that body-swap boink with that ex-commando beefcake a few years back - the last thing the dark-haired Slayer wanted to do was chase another one of Buffy's boy-toys.

It _just might_ get Buffy rethinking her 'no-killing-Faith' policy that she was probably still getting used to. Besides, she wasn't so much into Buffy's leftovers anymore…although she might make an exception in this case…

Faith did feel bad for everyone else, though. Fred looked like she was going to cry at any minute. Gunn looked out of it, too, and Lorne looked down in the dumps, himself. And Xander?

The way he was slouching, Harris looked like someone had shot his puppy right in front of him.

Faith suddenly had a sinking feeling that her old boy-toy still held a torch for the ex-cheerleader, even though he'd apparently almost married that other chick - Tanya, or whatever - and Faith didn't know if that was legit warm fuzzies he was feeling, or part of that weird James Bond-wannabe complex the dude seemed to have of being in lust with all the women in his life. Still, the way he looked, all beaten down and mope-y, it almost made her want to give Xander a hug…that is, if that wouldn't be mad awkward on the count of her being his first lay…and, y'know, trying to kill him and his friends a couple of times…

"So," Xander breathed heavily, taking a look at his company. "Anyone else feel like they're waiting in the doctor's office for those oh-so-happy 'positive' results?"

Gunn shook his head. "I know what you mean, man. I just…I'm not even sure I want to think about what's happening right now."

"Right there with you, sunshine," Lorne sighed, morosely. "I mean, God, it's…poor Cordy-kins."

"This can't be happening," Fred murmured quietly. "How could Angel just…decide - just like that - that he has to kill Cordy?"

Faith shrugged. "Well, I'm reasonably sure Buffy had a hand in that chain of thought."

Gunn eyed her questioningly. "What?"

"Hey!" Xander called out, defensively, pointing his finger at Faith. "You don't know that. You can't just throw around accusations like -"

"Oh, come on, Lassie, spare me the loyalty spiel," Faith dismissively waived him off. "Look, Xander, I don't mean anything personal by it; I mean, I get it. Big picture, gotta save all the shiny happys from the wicked scarys. But, c'mon - you know as well as I do that B's made that left turn down Kill-Your-Friends Lane a few times too many, now."

A shrug. "And I'm not talking about when she tried to gut me before Graduation Day…technically, I was pretty much a mortal enemy back then. Look at what happened with Angel and Acathla a few years back. She went and punched his ticket to Hell pretty easily, from what I heard."

"That was _different_," Xander shot back. "That was…partly my fault."

"Like it was your fault when B decided to whack your ex-fiancée for getting her demon mojo risin' a few months ago?" Faith retorted. Off Xander's shocked face, she replied, "Yeah, Xander, Willow told me about that in the car drive up to Sunny-D. As well as what happened, when you tried to stop it."

Xander's left eye twitched, as the heat of emotion rose in him at the mention of that particular night. "Hey, here's an idea, Faith - how about you keep your mouth shut about stuff you don't know _anything_ _about_?"

"_O__y_…watch it, whelp," Spike bit out, blue eyes flashing with sudden warning, finding the way this walking man-child was talking to the curvy Slayer aside him...upsetting.

A surprised Faith fought to suppress a smile that tugged at her lips at Spike's unexpected defense. _Decent of him, I gotta say..._

"And why don't you just stay out of this, okay, Evil Undead?" Xander shot back at Spike.

The platinum-haired vampire finally had enough, shooting up to his feet. He'd had his fill of this little git for years, enduring the useless whelp's insults as a daily ritual all due to the fact that he couldn't lay a finger on Harris because of that stupid chip blasting his synapses with searing pain…which was no longer an issue now.

"Newsflash, Bob the bloody Builder - but in case you 'aven't heard, Buffy had those Initiative bastards take that blasted chip out of my noggin. Which means I can hit you now…and _then_ _some_," Spike scowled as he slowly approached the taller, but all-too-mortal Xander…who cursed himself for swallowing nervously at the deadly vampire's approach. "So, how 'bout _you_ go slouching back in your box before the Evil Undead makes you a paler shade of DEAD-dead?"

Instinctively, Gunn - who'd already had more than his share of Spike from earlier - propelled himself forward from his spot, the vampire hunter in him going automatically on full alert.

"I'd like to see you try, Bleach Brain," Charles growled, as he moved to back up his new friend.

Xander chuckled - despite the overwhelming urge to lose all bladder control - as he shook his head. "Didn't take long, did it Spike? Should've known it was just a matter of time before you got up to your old tricks again, once the muzzle was gone. Soul, chip, it doesn't matter…deep down, you're still nothing but a monster."

Spike flashed the mortal an evil smile, despite the fear that if he tore Xander's throat out like he so badly wanted to do - Buffy would think the exact same thing. "Keep talkin', Harris, that's all you're ever good for. Though that'll be hard for you to do after I rip your tongue out of your throat hole, tie it around your neck and make you _wear_ it."

Feeling the simmering tensions about to reach a boiling point, Lorne attempted to defuse the situation. "Whoa there, cats and kittens; let's take a timeout, shall we?"

"How 'bout you quit threatening the humans around here, Blood Breath, before you piss me off?" Gunn menaced.

"Charles, _don't_," an anxious Fred pleaded.

"How 'bout you just _piss_ _off_, mate, and go find another one of Angel's boots to tongue-polish?" an annoyed Spike retorted.

Gunn's already-short fuse finally ignited. "_That's it_! This vamp's pasty ass is toast. Fred, toss me my axe!"

Upon hearing that, Faith interjected herself between the increasingly angry trio, trying her best to play Referee Girl.

"Guys, please - _cut it out_, seriously!" Faith yelled, but to no avail as the three males shouted and cursed at each other, fully intending to shed some blood, while Lorne, Fred and Faith loudly called for peace above the angry voices with little success…

All the while, an amused Skip smirked as he watched these so-called heroes about to tear each other apart. "Gosh, what I wouldn't give for a Slurpee and some Sno Caps right about now..."

_Click-click__**-BANG! BANG! BANG!**_

The loud gunshots coming out of a semi-automatic pistol made everyone in the room jump, effectively bringing the heated confrontation to a stop.

All eyes turned to the entrance of Angel's office, where Wesley - an eerily impassive look on his five o'clock-shadowed face - stood, smoking gun up high in the air for all to see.

Darla, Giles and Willow all quickly followed from the office, alarmed by the gunshots. Everyone just gaped at the ex-Watcher, as he stared back around at the shocked faces in the room.

Slowly, he lowered the pistol, then spoke. Calmly. Softly. Yet with an edge that plainly screamed 'screw-with-me-and-I'll-put-one-in-each-kneecap'. Wesley said:

"Now, then…what seems to be the problem?"

Lorne raised his hand to speak, when Wesley abruptly silenced him. "The question was purely rhetorical, Lorne, as I actually couldn't give a damn what the problem is."

The green-skinned anagogic demon almost cringed as he lowered his hand. Slowly, Wesley turned his attention to the squabbling heroes.

"You're tense," Wesley began.

"Look who's talking," Skip murmured, before the Englishman's icy glare made him clam up.

"We're _all_ tense," Pryce said, continuing to address the group. "A good friend of ours…a long-time friend…is in terrible peril right now. Some of us have an old history together that's not exactly pleasant. Some of us have new history which might be worse. We're trapped in a hotel with a chrome-based sycophantic demon -"

"Hey!" Skip protested on instinct.

"And a swarm of young, impressionable, and unapologetically loud teenage girls being hunted down because of a power they may or may not live long enough to inherit, and the danger is growing with each passing minute."

Having surmised the situation, Wesley paused for a moment, allowing the gathered group to soak in the scope of the chaotic state of affairs.

"Get the hell over it," he said quietly, bluntly.

Darla blinked in astonishment at his words.

Off the surprise etched in their raised brows, Wesley continued, "We're dealing with, at best, two apocalypses closing in on us from both fronts, and at worst, with something so big and massive that it may actually devour us whole. Now's not the time for petty squabbles, personality clashes or sordid love triangles. If that's your cup of tea, MTV Studios is only twenty minutes away by car, so I suggest you go there now…before I reload and take aim at the next person who tries to start something.

"Angel and Buffy need our help. Perhaps more than ever, now. If any of you care for either one of them, then cease this pointless prattle, stop moping about and get back on the same damn page. People are depending on us and for better or worse, right now, we are all they've got. I think they deserve a little better from us than pointless in-fighting, don't you?"

Off the harsh, clipped tone of the ex-Watcher's voice, the bickering heroes had the grace to look shamed (albeit reluctantly) realizing just how far off track they were getting.

Impressed - and somewhat mortally terrified - Willow leaned over to Darla and whispered, "Looks like _someone's_ a grumpy monkey."

"A little bit," Darla replied quietly, although her blue-green eyes, wide in impressed awe, never left Wesley.

Giles smirked as he shook his head in amazement. It astounded him to think that this confident, no-nonsense man with a gun in his hand - who had just silenced a group that included a former rogue Slayer, a legendary vampire, an aggressive vampire hunter and the ever-garrulous Xander Harris - was the same sniveling little twerp who'd screamed in terror when both of them were at the mercy of the repulsive, obese and deadly demon Balthazar four years ago.

Skip grew worried as he saw his enemies start to look a little more together. So, as usual, he tried to stir things up. "Nice speech, there, Old Chap. Not exactly 'Win One for the Gipper'-quality, but hey, points for effort."

"Ah, Skip," Wesley sighed in boredom. "I'd almost forgotten you were still here, though I was rather hoping either Faith or Spike would have killed you by now."

"You wish," the demon snorted.

"I know _I_ do," Fred smiled sarcastically.

"Your wish is my command, pet," the platinum-haired vampire grinned nastily at the entrapped demon. "Just give me two minutes alone with this metal moron, and I'll have him screamin' for his mum's uncle."

"I'd pay to see _that_ on Pay-Per-View," Faith nodded.

"Here, here," Lorne agreed, shooting Skip a scornful glare.

"Oh, please," Skip scoffed, his red eyes delivering a sweeping sneer to his audience. "Who're you guys fooling? You're trying to fight pure, ultimate evil - when you spend more time fighting each other? Sure, you can stop the bickering now, but sooner or later, it'll start up again. And again. And again. You'll be too busy trying to punch the other guy's lights out because he's stepping on your toes, that you won't even see us coming. 'Cause here's the thing about evil - it's got no ego. It doesn't matter to us who's sleeping with who, or who hates who or who took the last Oreo outta the box. Why? Because the goal's still the same - taking this world back and the complete annihilation of your pitiful species and anyone else who doesn't get with the program."

Off their venomous glares, Skip laughed, "Oh, don't give me that look! Deep down, you know it, too. 'Cause we have drive. We have purpose. Hell, we have dental! You? You guys go through your existential crises, and soul-searching and all that touchy-feely nonsense, too busy wallowing in your own crap to realize Rome's burning around you. You guys have _nothing_ going for you! We've got all the pieces falling in place, whereas you guys can't even find a cause to rally around, not a single thing you can agree on, not _one_ reason why you can all put your grievances aside and say, 'Hey, let's work together because -'"

"_We've got a live one, people_!" Buffy's loud voice barked out as the Slayer practically kicked open the lobby's front doors. Behind her, Angel swept in, cradling a limp, unconscious 'Cordelia' in his arms, with Dawn, Connor, Molly and Vi in tow.

Skip paled in sheer horror. "Oh, monkey poop."

"Oh my God," Xander breathed, as he saw the seemingly-lifeless body of his ex-girlfriend in Angel's arms.

"You found her," Gunn stated, though he was surprised himself.

"Cordelia!" Fred gasped in shock.

Willow eyed the taller vampire anxiously. "Angel, is she -"

"She's fine," Angel reassured her, although his eyes darted around. "Unconscious - but fine. We need to get her set up. Now."

Lorne started towards the stairs. "Right. Uh, there are some blankets upstairs -"

"Blankets?" Angel shook his head. "No. We need chains."

Fred stared at him, flabbergasted. "What? _Chains_?"

Buffy nodded. "Magic ones. Something that'll keep her contained, even with magic or super-strength or whatever."

"I have just the thing for the job," Wesley said, as he went back into the office, presumably to get that item.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, _hold on_," Xander called out. "Why're we chaining Cordelia up?"

"That would be on account of her trying to kill me and Connor with black magic…and a really sharp meat cleaver," Dawn provided the answer to him. "Cordelia's _possessed_, remember? She's pure evil right now!"

Ignoring the shock on most people's faces, Buffy pressed on. "And we need something to free her from the possession thing..." She turned to Willow. "Will, did you get everything you need for that spell?"

"What? Oh, uh, yeah, I think we're set to go, we just finished the translation a few minutes ago," Willow supplied helpfully.

"And it appears we have all the materials necessary to begin," Giles said.

"But the spell can only be done when she's unconscious," Darla added. "If she resists before the spell grants the infiltrators passage into her mind, the psychic backlash could render them catatonic…or worse."

Buffy paused for a moment. "Fine. Get everything ready. But only after we're done."

Willow frowned. "Done with what?"

"Interrogating her," Angel answered for her. "Whatever this thing is, the Beastmaster knows how to get Cordy back, and it knows whatever it is the First wants from it _and_ her. Gunn, Fred, get the tilt table from downstairs. We need to strap her down on it."

"Uh, Angel, that thing weighs a few hundred pounds," Gunn pointed out.

"Faith, give them a hand," Buffy directed the brunette. "Spike, keep an eye on Skip, and my God, how weird does that sentence sound coming out of my mouth?"

Faith rolled her eyes. "I'm on it, B."

In the midst of the whirlwind of activity, Darla's eyes found her son's. Instinctively, she went to him, wrapping her arms around him. Caught off-guard, Connor hesitantly hugged her back.

She pulled back, examining his face with all the doting concern of a mother. "Are you all right? Did she hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Mom," Connor said, appearing flustered.

Seeing her confused glance, his eyes subtly slid over towards Dawn, who was staring at their interaction with keen interest. Darla's eyebrows rose ever-so-slightly, understanding now what had gotten her son so bashful all of a sudden. She didn't want his mom cramping his style. At least, not in front of a pretty girl.

"Okay. We'll talk about it later…" Darla said simply, cocking one perfect golden eyebrow. "…along with why you felt it necessary to sneak out of the hotel on a dangerous mission without telling me or anyone else."

Molly and Vi couldn't help but to giggle as the male teen suddenly grimaced.

Off of Connor's wince, Dawn's brow rose. _Wow, Darla the evil vampire showing a motherly side…go figure._

Buffy caught sight of Angel tenderly holding his seer's unresponsive hand, and felt another surge of jealous insecurity spike through her. But she forced it down and tried to smother it - even as the words _'She's more than that' _kept echoing in her brain - as the Slayer attempted to gain a suddenly morose Angel's attention.

"Angel," Buffy said softly, before giving his shoulder a small shake. "Angel, snap out of it. We need you."

Reluctantly, the dark-haired vampire nodded. "I know. It's just…it's Cordy."

A relenting sigh escaped Buffy's lips, before she returned his nod, sympathetically. "Yeah…I know."

Xander peered fretfully over his best friend's shoulder towards the sleeping raven-locked beauty on the floor. "Do you really think we can get her back, Buff?"

"I don't know, Xander." Her eyes suddenly hardened. "But we're sure as hell gonna try. I lost Merrick, we lost Mom, and Jenny, and Kendra and Tara…I'll be damned if we're going to lose another one. We will _not. Lose. Cordy_."

Angel felt his resolve strengthen as he saw the determination smoldering in the blonde Slayer's blue-green eyes. "Damn right we won't," he said, softly but fiercely.

Off his gritty reply, Buffy gave him a small grin. "Now _there's_ the Angel I know."

His signature half-smile was her reward for her encouragement, and for a moment, it was just them again, the world briefly fading out as the former lovers locked their longing eyes on one another…

Lorne raised an eyebrow at the interaction between everybody's favorite Angel and the petite blonde Slayer, his demon senses picking up the intense, stunningly natural chemistry between them. If this wasn't _moira_ - the Pylean word for gut physical attraction - then he wasn't green. And from the way he caught the pair of ex-lovers looking at each other even before they had returned with Cordy in arms, there was definitely some major _kye-rumption_ going on, maybe even more so than he had seen between Angel and Cordelia.

Catching their stare, Xander rolled his eyes. He'd thought the Buffy/Angel cow-eyes crap had been left behind in the '90s where it belonged, along with Hootie and the Blowfish and Hanson's Mmm-Bop song.

He couldn't think of anything more irritating than his co-best friend and the broody vampire staring longingly at each other…

"Okay, everyone!" Andrew called out before he emerged from the kitchen, fully adorned with an apron that said 'Smooch the Cook', holding a silver tray that held several cups of flan. "_I-iiiiiit's FLAAN TIME_!"

Upon gazing upon the nerd's food and then the former Trio member himself, everyone in the room only offered him a blank stare.

_But, then again, there's always Andrew,_ Xander relented unhappily.

* * *

As the fog of unconsciousness began to fade and clear, the first thing 'Cordelia' felt was a sharp pain on her face…no doubt courtesy of that Connor brat's fist.

The Beastmaster shook off the cobwebs, dimly aware that time was still running out, and with the sacrifice most likely no longer present, things were getting to the point where it couldn't possibly get any worse…

"Rise and shine, 'Cordy'," a familiar female voice chirped.

'Cordelia' opened her eyes and stared wide-eyed into the grim faces of the two people she had dreaded seeing the most - Angel and Buffy Summers.

She instinctively tried to flee, only to find her wrists and hands chained firmly to some contraption restraining her, but keeping her vertical to the audience of heroes in front of her. The chains were enchanted, too, she could instantly tell.

The Beastmaster could recognize the faces of the so-called Scooby Gang mixed with Angel's crew, with that bitch Darla and that little rat Connor among the mix - along with that brat Dawn, who'd nearly broken her nose earlier.

Opting to mask her fear, 'Cordelia' chuckled sardonically. "Well, well…gang's all here. What happened, Angel? Couldn't handle it all by your lonesome, so you decided to call in the Sunnydale chapter of the Little Rascals?"

Willow frowned. "Well, it _kinda_ sounds like Cordy."

"But we all know it's not," Angel icily replied.

A smug smile adorned the Beastmaster's face. "Aww…more wishful thinking there, hero?"

Buffy sighed as she walked towards the bad guy. "Okay, you know what? I can see where this is going. We make quips, you make quips, we banter, we threaten, yadda-yadda-yadda. But I'm kinda in a rush, so let's just cut to the chase here."

She stared at the thing possessing the body of her friend. "First off, the real Cordy would never be caught dead in that weird muumuu outfit. I mean, what were you going for, this spring's 'evil pregnant slut' look?"

"Beats what you're wearing, Slayer," 'Cordelia' snarked. "Where'd you get that top, the Bulgarian chapter of Sears?"

Buffy was impressed, to a degree. That sounded exactly like something the Cordy she knew would say.

"Well, at least I don't have cankles, unlike _some_ people currently chained up," Buffy smirked, cutting off the offended Beastmaster before she could spit out another remark. "Now where's Cordelia? The _real_ one?"

"I'm right here," the pregnant woman replied, innocently.

"Cut the crap," Buffy said, her eyes hardening with menace. "We want our friend back. Release her, and we promise we won't destroy you in the process. But we want her back. _Right now_."

'Cordelia' sneered. "Say pretty plea -"

She suddenly found herself gasping for air, wide-eyed in fear, as the Slayer's hand shot out and squeezed her windpipe, hard.

Buffy offered a sweet grin, contrasted by the deadly gleam visible in her eyes. "Please. _Pretty_," she ground out through the smile.

"_Buffy_," Angel said, the tone in his voice asking her to back down.

Yet the blonde Slayer held fast, her eyes deadlocked with the hazel orbs of her possessed friend.

"That's…right…mngh…Slayer," the gasping brunette taunted with a conceited smirk. "Go ahead…kill me…but, then your friend…dies…_with_ me. Can't see…Angel…forgiving you…after you…strangle… the _new_ love…of his life..."

The words cut into Buffy more than she would admit, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to squeeze hard enough to pop the brunette woman's eyes out of her head. However, she took a deep breath, calming herself, and reluctantly released her vice-like grip on the villainess's throat.

'Cordelia' coughed and wheezed for breath, all the while smirking at the frustrated blonde. "_Whoo_! Boy, looks like _someone_ needs a visit from the decaf fairy."

For his part, Xander could barely believe that this was Cordy…well, okay, actually she had the classic Cordelia Chase 'tude down to a pretty good imitation. Although the real Cordy could put a little more sting in her barbs. _Not good, not good…_

Having officially had enough, Angel strode to Buffy, standing side by side with her. "No more games. We don't know who you are, but we know what your game is. We know you're in league with The First."

Despite the surprise at Angel's statement, 'Cordelia' kept it cool. "The first what?"

"Evil," Buffy cut in. "You know, the thing that knocked you up and made you a baby factory?"

The pregnant woman's shrill laugh gave Buffy a major case of the wiggins. "HA! Poor, stupid, Buffy. Out of the loop on Angel's life these days, as always."

Ignoring the sting of those words, Buffy stood her ground. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just more mind games. Don't let her get to you," Angel quickly spoke up.

'Cordelia' gave the vampire a reprimanding 'tsk-tsk.' "Naughty-naughty, Angel…keeping secrets in the closet? Not very Champion-like."

Buffy turned her inquiring gaze to Angel. "Angel, what's she talking about?"

Angel hesitated, not sure if this was the place or time to get into this.

"Oh, come on, Angel - tell her," 'Cordelia' taunted, resting her cruel eyes on Buffy. "Tell your little Slayer tramp all about how your _son_ - the fruit of your loins from _your_ illicit roll in the hay with your evil-bitch sire, Darla - planted his seed inside of the new apple of your eye, _moi_, and dropped us all right at the doorstep to the end of the world as you know it."

All eyes turned in shock both to Angel and to a suddenly self-conscious Connor, who felt annoyed if not intimidated by these strangers staring at him with their judgmental eyes.

Dawn, from her place alongside Connor, stared at the boy, confused…and hurt. "Connor, what's she saying?"

The boy opened his mouth, to try to say something, anything to the pretty girl who smelled like candy beside him that would sound halfway decent, only to be cut off by another snide remark from the fake Cordelia.

"What - are all the women in the Summers family this dumb, or did you just totally skip high school biology class? Connor. Is. The. Father. That simple enough for you, ya dumbass brat?"

"Dawn, I..." Connor clumsily started, but the wounded stare in Dawn's eyes made him falter.

'Cordelia' snickered. "Oh, wait a second…don't tell me you and Miracle Man-child over there had a _thing_ going on? _Ha_! Wow, guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it, lover?" She gave the youngest Summers woman a heartless sneer. "Guess Junior never bothered to tell you about that, did he, _Dawnie_? I could understand why, though. I mean, a deadbeat dad? Not much of a turn-on. Looks like you inherited that classic Summers taste in men. Really know how the pick the winners, don't you?"

Buffy, offended as an older sister, a grieving daughter and as a young woman, moved threateningly towards 'Cordelia' - only to have Angel lay a restraining hand on her arm.

"Don't let her get to you," he repeated softly. "That's _not_ Cordy."

"I'm not really sure I _care_, right now," Buffy said through gritted teeth.

Dawn, feeling her lip quivering, could no longer bear to look at Connor, or stand to hear the cutting words from the Beastmaster. Without explanation, she found herself pushing through the small crowd as she hurriedly ascended the stairs.

A panicked Connor went to follow. "Dawn, wait, _please_! Just let me…"

But Molly and Vi reached him first, Molly grabbing his arm and saying, "Connor, don't. She's…she looks pretty upset. And when Dawn gets upset, she never talks to _anybody_. It's like talking to a wall…that's behind _another _wall."

"We'll go talk to her, okay?" Vi offered.

Connor felt his mother's hand gently rest on his shoulders. "Maybe you should heed their advice, honey," Darla gently suggested.

Connor's shoulders sagged, nodding dejectedly at the two girls, who gave him pitying smiles as they ran up the stairs after a despondent Dawn. Just his luck - he finally meets a beautiful, brave, funny, non-evil girl and he ruins it before it could even begin. Story of the suck-fest that was his life…

Seeing the heartbroken look on Connor's face, Darla turned angry blue-green eyes towards 'Cordelia', who was on the receiving end of murderous stares from an irate Buffy, a furious Angel and the angry glares of everyone in the room.

"What? Was it something I said?" was the Beastmaster's falsely naïve reply, shrugging casually.

Buffy growled, her heart hammering in rage as she resisted the urge to blast this bitch's teeth down her throat. _Just one more snide remark…_

"Oh, Satan's balls - will _somebody_ get this bint talking already, or do I gotta do it myself?" Spike threw up his hands.

"Spike, not now," Willow hushed him.

A glowering Angel shot Spike a dirty look before he closed in on 'Cordelia', slamming his powerful hands hard against both sides of the metal contraption.

"Okay, _now_ I'm getting bored," he hissed, cold dark eyes boring into the captive woman. "You're skating on real thin ice right at the moment, so why don't you just tell us what it is that you know…before I _make_ you?"

Buffy's tone was filled with demand, her eyes gleaming with promised pain as she said, "What's your connection to The First? What the hell is that thing growing inside you? And where's the real Cordelia? _Answers_. _**Now**__!_"

'Cordelia' laughed haughtily at the two warriors. "What are you gonna do? Kill me? You can't even touch me, not while I'm in _this_ body. Can't risk hurting your worthless little Cordelia in the process. And even if you could, whatever you brain trusts do to me is nothing compared to what'll happen if the First Evil doesn't get its…"

Her eyes widened, as 'Cordelia' realized she might have said too much.

"Oh, crap," Skip muttered in dismay, evidently realizing it too.

Angel's eyes narrowed. "Its _what_?"

"Nothing," the brunette quickly stonewalled, the evil smirk returning in short order.

Buffy, folding her arms across her chest, didn't buy it. "The baby. Or…whatever it is that's inside your oven…_that's_ what the First wants, isn't it?" She turned to Angel. "It makes sense. That's what all of this is about."

"But what doesn't make sense is why there's more than one being in there," Wesley interjected.

Connor turned to him, surprised. "What?"

Giles explained, "Darla told us that there are two entities currently residing within Cordelia's body."

A puzzled Connor looked at his mother. "How do you know that?"

"Fragments of memories, sweetie," Darla clarified, turning from Connor to Angel and Buffy. "Whatever she did to tie me to this world again is still clouding that knowledge, but I remember the Powers telling me about there being at least two entities present inside of her."

"One is probably serving as either a distraction, or protection, for the other one, although it's unclear which is which," Wesley added, his hawk-like eyes appraising a scowling 'Cordelia.'

"You're just grasping at straws," the Beastmaster countered, although Angel could hear her heartbeat beginning to ever-so-slightly pick up the pace, his nose peppered by the stench of her fear.

"My guess is, you're probably the distraction," Angel surmised. "I mean, why put the fragile cargo on the outside?"

"So, this thing talking to us," Buffy pointed at the Beastmaster, "is just the wrapping for the _real_ surprise toy in the cereal box?"

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Angel looked to Buffy. "The First declares war. War's like a chess game. The pawns always go first."

'Cordelia' glared. "Who're you calling a pawn, Soul Boy?"

"Back rank checkmate," Giles realized.

Gunn was confused. "Back what-now?"

Willow's eyes lit up with understanding. "Yeah! You're right. W-when the queen moves along the back row on the chessboard."

"While the king is boxed in by its own pawns," Wesley mused.

Fred got it now. "And Cordelia's the queen. Or Fake Cordy is, anyway."

"Uh, can you translate that for us less brainy types? 'Cause I still have trouble mastering the time-honored art of 'Connect 4'," an annoyed Xander pointed out.

"As much as I hate to say this, I've gotta go with Xander on this one," Faith spoke up.

"It means, while everyone's been chasing their tails over the First Evil, Possessed Girl over there's been the real flag we shoulda been lookin' to capture," Spike replied with a small grin.

Lorne's green brow creased in a frown. "So, if we know what the Red Herring is…"

"Then what's the Golden Goose?" Anya asked.

"Whatever's there along for the ride with her," Buffy answered, turning to glare at the pregnant woman. "Isn't it? Cordy's still inside you. My guess is, you've worked some kind of mojo to bind her soul down in some dark corner so she can't surface and tell us herself."

'Cordelia' glared at her, but said nothing.

"Mojo it is, then," Angel smirked.

"As if it matters?" the Beastmaster spat out, glaring at its enemies. "You think you're scratching the surface, when you haven't so much as smudged the varnish. You think all these little assumptions and your little 'Clue' games are going to be the key to getting your seer slut back?"

Angel and Xander's jaws both clenched at the crass reference to Cordy, while Buffy fought to keep herself from throttling the arrogant 'mother-to-be'.

"Well, it's not gonna happen," the Beastmaster snarled. "I've kept my end of the bargain, and I'm not leaving until I get what I want. The Cordelia Chase you know is _gone_. She's mine, now. Body and soul. And you can't risk getting rid of me, capisce? Because you don't have any answers for why this is all happening, no prophecy guiding you along, and no floating Oracles to riddle-you-this-and-that -"

"So what about a time travel spell? You think you could cope with _that_, Little Miss Body Thief?" Xander suddenly asked, a mean and angry look unexpectedly appearing in his eyes.

Everyone stared at him, as 'Cordelia' sneered to try to cover up her sudden anxiety. "Who gave you permission to speak while the grown-ups are talking, Zeppo Boy? Now why don't you go fetch some doughnuts, seeing how that's all you're good for -"

"Pretty weak insult; even Spike could do better than that. Hell, the real Cordy could have done better when she was six years old," Xander cut her off. He gestured with his head at Skip, who was still trapped and impotent within his prison. "I've been thinking about it, ever since Metal Head over there said that Cordelia dating me in high school was all part of the plan. Part of the _manipulation._ And I guess that actually makes sense, if you stop and think about it."

"Meaning?" 'Cordelia' sneered.

"Xander, this isn't the time..." Angel started to say impatiently.

"Let him talk," Buffy cut him off, as the ensouled vampire stared at her in surprise. Despite the annoyance over the 'Kick his ass' thing, she still wanted to hear what Xander had to say.

Xander didn't seem to notice the interruption. "Thing is I've thought about it, on and off, for a long time. See, Cordy and I were happy together - all right, we fought like cats and dogs most days, but we'd been together for about a year before the…thing between Willow and me happened one night."

The red-haired witch closed her eyes for a moment, recalling that evening with a stab of pain. The desire, the guilt, and the excitement of _finally_ making out with her life-long crush had made Willow alternately completely scared and utterly thrilled back then...

"For six weeks, Willow and I were into the whole 'illicit smoochies' deal. Then when Cordy and Oz finally found out - at the _worst _possible time, granted - it was all over between me and my girlfriend. Not saying I didn't deserve it -" Xander continued to expound on his theme.

"You sure did," Skip chuckled, then he shut himself up as the gang turned to look at him. "Oh, don't mind me - please, keep going!"

"Oh my Goddess," Willow whispered in horror, staring at the silver mercenary demon as she suddenly realized something. "You were _there_?"

"OH! I get it," Spike chuckled, he was familiar with this story as he'd played a role in Cordelia getting impaled by the rebar that night. He said to Skip, "You cast a bloody lust spell on Red and the whelp back then, didn't ya? Bloody hell…"

"Oh, Goddess…_no wonder_ after we were discovered, it was all over. Just like that. Like someone had simply flipped off a switch or something," Willow choked out, suddenly feeling violated - just like Tara had felt, after that forgetting spell Willow had performed on her last year.

"Look, getting back on topic - that whole thing between me and Cordy was planned, like Skippy here said. Both the unlikely start _and_ the bad ending. After all, if she'd never dated me - odds are that at least _one_ of her rich friends would have helped her out somehow, after Cordy's family lost all of its money. Probably Aura," Xander resumed his analysis. He stared at the Beastmaster and said, "So you needed Cordelia broke and on the outs with _everyone_ after high school, in order to end up Angel's Vision Girl - which is where I came in. And...to make sure I stayed out of the picture completely once my job was done, you arranged for me to meet Anya?"

"Is there a point to all this Xander-babble, loser?" 'Cordelia' asked playfully, even though her furious hazel eyes told a different story.

"Yeah, like I said. A good old-fashioned time travel spell. As in, Willow does her mojo in order to reach out and touch someone - namely, me. Change what happened in the past that day with Norman the Bug Man, during junior year. Because if I'd never gotten involved with Cordelia, then none of this would have ever happened to her, right?" Xander asked cuttingly. "Whoever or whatever you are, you wouldn't even _be here_ right now."

The young man's words unleashed a virtual storm within everyone's minds.

Angel regarded Xander - the powerless one, the annoying one, yet the only person who could have made Angelus back off in the hospital that night - like a venomous snake that had somehow appeared out of nowhere. Because what the kid had said just now definitely made sense, in a horribly painful and completely repulsive way. Angel had never forgotten Cordelia's descriptions of the Birthday-verse; the life Skip had shown the seer that she could have had, the one where she would have been a rich and famous actress - and where _he_ would have been the insane Vision Boy after Doyle had passed his gift onto the wrong successor, with Wesley and Gunn the somewhat cynical and world-weary demon fighters.

Wesley and Giles exchanged glances, wondering if Xander was right - and if he was, what would be the implications of his unorthodox and highly dangerous plan. Assuming, of course, that such a thing was even possible.

Darla looked stunned, staring at Connor. The son she and Angel had created together. The son she had borne after Wolfram & Hart had brought her back as a human, and then brought Drusilla in to turn her into a vampire. If they did this, and everything happened differently - would that mean that Connor would never be born? That she herself would never be resurrected in the first place?

Anya was looking alternately frightened and interested. If - and that was a big _if _- the plan her ex had just proposed was realistic, creating a whole new timescape like that would have direct implications for _her. _After all, the only reason she had become mortal in the first place was because Xander had been caught cheating on Cordelia. If that had never happened…then Anya knew she would have never even _met_ the guy. Never would have lost her powers. Never would have fallen in love with him. Never would have gotten her heart broken by him. Never would have rediscovered all the joys of being human, that life as a demon automatically precluded.

Fred and Gunn stared at each other. The female physicist didn't know much about Cordelia's dating history in Sunnydale - but the black man certainly did, as evidenced by the talk he and Xander had shared in Cordelia's old room a while ago. Charles didn't know what surprised him more - the fact that his new friend was willing to entirely forego the happiness from a relationship that had ended so badly, or that he hadn't decided to make sure that the 'fluke' never took place instead.

Faith and Spike likewise sought out each other's eyes. They didn't know what effect Xander's plan would have on them, if he attempted to rewrite the history books all the way back to 1997 - but they were instinctively against the idea, as they were _sure_ that Xander would screw it up somehow.

Buffy, however, noticed Willow quietly freaking out upon hearing Xander's words. "Will? Are you okay?"

"NO! I'm not okay!" Willow yelped, grabbing Harris by the arm in order to face her. "Xander, do you have any _idea_ what it is you want me to do?"

"Well, obviously the answer's no. What else could you expect from a guy who almost married a freakin' demon?" the Beastmaster said cheerfully, even as Anya glared daggers at 'Cordelia' for that insult.

"Shut up, you," Buffy ordered 'Cordy' roughly. Then she turned to her pseudo-father figure. "Giles? Xander's plan. Is something like that a feasible option?"

"Well - it's, it's an extraordinarily dangerous one," Giles said, instinctively reaching to polish his glasses. "I-I-I mean, playing around with the timeline that way..."

"...is a plan of ultimate last resort. Because Cordelia's been a vital member of Angel's group, right from the beginning. She's played a pivotal role in events over the past four years; including one or two apocalypses," Wesley frowned.

"She's been more than 'vital', Wes. I wouldn't have made it this far, if not for her. Cordelia herself, I mean, and not a seer for the Powers," Angel remarked, sharing a look with Darla. Reminding her of their conversation a few hours ago, when they'd talked about the women in his un-life. Not to mention reminding Buffy of why she didn't like Cordelia all that much right now.

"I remember the night when Cordelia - the real one - told me she was half-demon. Then when I tried to stab her, she…she did that weird light show thing, after she grabbed my arm," Connor spoke up musingly. "I wouldn't be the person I am today, if not for her."

"Ditto. Don't like the sound of my never knowing Cordy if you go and change that, man," Gunn said to Xander with a shrug.

_Gahhhh, sod this…_ Spike thought to himself grouchily; but before he could say anything, the Beastmaster burst out laughing.

"Oh, this is just too much! My God, how is it possible that out of all the so-called men around here, the dork is the only one who actually has a set of _balls_?" 'Cordelia' said, both sneeringly and challengingly. "Listen to you all! Oooh, 'what if' this, 'what if' that - some champions for the forces of light you are! If any of you ever actually manages to grow a pair, then I'm the Queen of England!"

"_Be quiet_, whatever the hell you are!" Buffy ordered. Then she turned her attention back to her red-haired best friend. "Willow?"

The redhead instantly shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, but that's not an option." She looked at Xander, "I'm really sorry, Xander, but it just isn't."

"You can't do it?" Faith finally spoke up, staring at Willow curiously.

Ignoring Xander's chagrined look, Willow shook her head silently. She knew that even though the End of Days was at hand, something like that was not the answer. Even putting aside all the dangers associated with altering history, to borrow a phrase - the cure might be worse than the disease, when she went all black-eyed badass again after tapping into so much dark magic to try to pull off a Marty McFly in the past.

"Aw, too bad. 'Cause I was actually shaking in my boots for a moment," the Beastmaster said laughingly. "Now, where were we before the doofus distracted us all with his pointless little plan?"

That grating self-satisfied smirk returned. "Oh, yeah! You people don't have any answers as for why all this is happening. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Looks to me like I'm the only one with the answer key for the big Final Exam, and you kids haven't even brought a book."

Buffy and Angel would never admit it, but even as she spoke those gloating words, they knew 'Cordelia' was right.

"Then how about we bring a few cheat sheets in to fill in the blanks?"

All eyes turned to the front doors at the sound of that broad Queens accent…

…where Whistler, Oz and Lindsey McDonald stood at the entrance to the hotel.

The shocked look on everyone's faces told the story better than words ever could.

"Whistler?" Buffy and Angel simultaneously blurted out, both warriors stunned at his appearance.

"Rat Breath. Slayer," the balance demon jovially greeted the pair. "The years have been good to you. Well, guess the years are always good for an immortal vamp, but still…lookin' good."

Willow's amazed green eyes rested on the form of her first and only boyfriend. "_Oz_?" she gasped, bewildered.

The twenty-something werewolf gave her a soft grin. "Hey, Willow," he greeted her, tenderly.

Angel's eyes were not so warm when he spotted the third man. "Lindsey," his icy voice whispered gratingly.

Lindsey offered the vampire a sardonic salute and a cocky smirk…

"Howdy, champ. How's it goin'?"

…which faded into a softer glance as his eyes found the one thing he'd driven all this way here for.

"Darla."

He croaked out her name as his eyes swept disbelievingly, reverently over the angelic, flawless features of the female face that haunted his dreams every night.

Darla's perfect, pinkish-red lips parted in surprise. "Lindsey?"

Off the way the former lawyer stared at the ex-vampire, Wesley's brow almost immediately furrowed into a scowl towards Lindsey. He was not sure of what was going on…and even less sure he liked it.

In hand, Whistler held a medium-sized black duffel bag. Seeing all the confusion directed towards him and his comrades, Whistler did what he did best during confusing and stress-filled moments…

"Okay, so…did anybody order an apocalypse?"

…make stupid jokes.

"Yeesh, you'd think somebody died in here," he grumbled in the face of the tough audience.

* * *

TBC…

* * *

A/N : Next chapter - Oz and Willow reunite, with Whistler bearing gifts…and warnings…for our heroes. And what will happen when Lindsey and Darla finally get up close and personal? (And what will Wesley think of that?) Meanwhile, Cordelia's soul still hangs in the balance, and to save it, Buffy and an unexpected traveling partner will have to risk their lives in a deadly ritual to save her.

You are curious, _yeeessss_?

Gotta run, and remember - friends don't let friends not leave feedback. Later!

Jean-theGuardian


	17. Part 15 Second Impressions

A/N : Haven't felt this inspired in a looooong time. Thanks to supernatural-fan 18, David Fishwick, dkwr07, Angellufy, jay martinez, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, teamtiva, vixen519, Dark Vizard447, ashes at midnight, and Ginevra Summers for their reviews. And by the way, HUGE thumbs up to TrendyVamp1991, teamtiva and Madje Knotts for their July reviews, as you guys forced me to get back on the old horse again and rediscover why I loved this story/genre.

And last but not least, welcome back, Imzadi! Glad to hear from you again after 7 years (this guy was the first one ever – out of 336 reviews - to review on this story when I started it in April 2003; Isn't that cool?)

But alas, my friend, I'm afraid I cannot abide by your request to add in Kate Lockley as a major character in the story. I never really liked her, and her character seemed fairly bland – can't really think of what to do with someone like that, aside from kill her. And she couldn't be a potential, because otherwise, she would have known about vampires before she met Angel instead of finding out about them _after_ the fact (although if I have the time, I might have her make a quick – _**very**_ quick – cameo or something.) But, if you, and a few other people, keep arguing your case, who knows, I _might_ (no promises) change my mind. It worked with Lindsey…

Thanks for your suggestion to add in Lindsey, by the way, as I've got some _big_ plans for that boy!

And keep your eyes peeled, folks, because a few other fan favorite characters (and not all of them good guys) are sure to be making a visit to Armageddon.

Well, that's it for this author's note, so sit back, relax and enjoy (and review!) the next chapter of Bring Me to Life which starts…right now!

* * *

Bring Me To Life: A BtVS/Angel Crossover Event

Part 15

Second Impressions

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel**

**Now**

* * *

It was a staring contest. Plain and simple.

Buffy and Angel staring in shock at Whistler. Whistler staring – and smirking – back at Buffy and Angel.

Oz staring at Willow, who returned his easy, yet loving gaze with a marveled, warm gaze in her sea-green eyes, neither of them concerned with the surprised stares of Buffy, Angel, Xander, Giles, and Anya or the amused smirks of Spike and Faith.

Lindsey staring longingly at Darla, who stared back in surprise at Lindsey…who was being given furious glares by Wesley and Angel, not to mention Gunn, Faith and Lorne.

True to fashion, (which could not be said of his attire) Whistler couldn't help but to inappropriately make light of the situation as he and his traveling partners stepped into the lobby. "Hey, yo, did we barge into something important or what?"

Buffy was the first to start with the aggressive line of questions. "Whistler, what the _hell_ are you doing here, and – _Oz_?"

Taking notice of his former Scooby Teammate and de-facto leader, the werewolf gave his usual easy going grin…

"Buffy. Long time."

…and his usual economic approach to words.

"No see," the blonde Slayer replied, before a small grin came over her face. "Still…good to have you back."

Oz nodded in kind, before his eyes met Angel's, offering the dark-haired vampire the same friendly – if not small – smile. "Angel."

The Champion reciprocated with a similar smile. "Oz."

Fred, feeling _once again_ out of the loop of the complicated pasts of her friends, looked at Lorne. "Who's Oz? Or…any of these guys, actually?"

"Never met two of 'em, Peach Pie, but I've seen them in Angel's and Willow's auras when Caritas was less charred. The little blonde guy, Oz – I saw him in Strawberry Red's aura – is a werewolf, her old beau and an old member of the Scoobies, if I remember the readings correctly," Lorne recalled. "The guy who's a walking fashion apocalypse, from Angel's aura, is Whistler, a demon guide – probably with the PTB's – that helped set Angel on the path to becoming a Champion. And the other guy…" his eyes narrowed at Lindsey. "…is one of Wolfram & Hart's boys."

The pretty Texan genius gasped. "Wolfram & Hart? As in the evil law firm always trying to kill us, Wolfram & Hart?"

"That be they," Lorne quietly replied. "Lindsey, over there, Angel's Numero Uno nemesis at W&H for a while, was their Golden Boy, a lawyer they handpicked to head up their Special Projects division…until he discovered that part of the promotion involved implanting him with an evil hand to replace the one _Nuestro Capitan_ Angel cut off…" He waved off Fred's confused glance as he continued, "Long story. Bottom line is, he quit Wolfram & Hart, which got Lilah promoted instead, and he went back to his brother's home in Iowa to go on some spiritual flagellation or something…which he's apparently done with since he's back _here_."

Ignoring them, Willow, Xander, Giles, and Anya stepped to the forefront to greet their long lost compatriot.

Oddlyy enough, Xander was the one to reach him first. "Oz! Buddy," he smiled in his off-color Xander-esque manner. "Lookin' good! Guys, check it out, Wolf Man's back and on the attack…well, hopefully not the last part...unless you're willing to attack Spike, that is."

The platinum vampire rolled his eyes at Xander's swipe, wondering why he never just ate the whelp when he had the chance years ago.

"Hopefully, no attacking unless it's bad guys," Oz replied.

"_Again_, I say," Xander smirked, his eyes ticking to Spike, who, in turn, saluted him…using only his middle finger.

A warmly smiling Giles was next. "Oz. I-it's wonderful to see you again. Of course."

"Of course," Oz nodded, before adding, "Uh, that it's good to see you, too, Giles."

Anya walked up, offering a bright, "Hello! Um, you probably don't remember me, but I'm Anya. Um, I used to be a brunette…and um, date Xander – which I don't anymore! Or have a brunette's hair color…you're the cute, albeit somewhat small wolf boy, right?"

"Anya," the quiet musician nodded yet again, "And, I'm just going by Oz, now."

And finally…Willow.

As she stepped closer until they were face to face, time, the air and everything else seemed to stop around the former lovers as the sea-green eyes of the redheaded Wicca met the ocean blue eyes of the werewolf. Being so close, after so long, sent a tornado of memories whirling in each other's minds. Thoughts of sweet kisses, late nights in his van…and monkey animal crackers.

Willow, stunned beyond words, took in the sight of her ex-boyfriend. The blonde spiky hair she came to know and love on him was still there, as was his laid back style of clothes, an orange shirt over a grey Jim Morrison T-shirt and jeans. And, of course, he was still totally cute as ever. But there was something different in those reserved, yet intense eyes. It was like he'd found some great peace…like he was somehow _at_ peace with the wolf inside – something she'd never seen in him before. And despite her currently lesbian status, she couldn't help but to feel the old spark of attraction between them begin to fan again into a small, but growing flame…

Shaking herself from her musings, Willow could only manage a quiet, but breathy, "Hey, you."

Oz swallowed, even more tongue-tied then usual at the moment, as he drunk in the sight of his beloved redhead. Her hair had grown slightly past her shoulders, framing her pretty face perfectly. And her green eyes still sparkled, still made him feel like he was walking on air when she looked at her…but he could see other things behind those beautiful jade depths…a gaze that spoke of great power, great strength, and also great pain and great loss…gone was the girl he once saw in those eyes, and before him stood a strong young woman…a goddess.

"Hey, yourself," he greeted simply, but with a gentleness that only Willow could bring out of him.

Tentatively, he reached out and brushed her bright reddish-orange hair back from her face, sending an involuntary shiver across the witch's skin just under her ear. His fingers deftly brought a strand of her hair up for his eyes to behold.

"Let your hair grow longer, huh?"

Willow fidgeted, suddenly felt a shy feeling she hadn't truly felt since before Sunnydale High version 1.0 was turned into a charred burial ground for the world's largest demon snake. "Yeah. You, um…you like?"

A beat…followed by a sweet half-smile. "Oh, I like. I more than like."

The beaming smile she rewarded him with made his heart thump with excitement. Once again…one of those things only one person on Earth – a scarlet witch from Sunnydale –

had ever made him feel.

Buffy exchanged knowing smiles with Angel. Both warriors had always known of the deep bond between Oz and Willow; they couldn't ignore the parallels between their own relationships. Two powerful women falling almost instantly for two men with a dangerous, deadly secret held under the confines of their skin – secrets that forced them apart, but never for too long.

Silently, Buffy had always figured the two would find their way back to each other at some point in their lives, even when Tara – the only other person who boasted a similar bond with Willow – was still alive. _Besides_, Buffy thought wryly, _Oz is 10 times better than Kennedy. _Personally, Angel always liked Oz; he was one of the few people who could truly relate to Angel's daily struggle to control the raging beast within, and couldn't think of a better person to love the little redhead, a dear friend of his, as she deserved.

After exchanging brief, but respectful nods with Wesley – who Oz noted had changed considerably, on the outside, anyway – the werewolf's keen eyes suddenly ticked to the base of the staircase, where Faith and Spike sat.

Oz raised an eyebrow – his version of a surprised face – at the sight of two of the Scooby Gang's deadliest foes standing casually about. "Faith. Spike."

"Oz," Faith smirked, as she held up her hand. "Dude, you have to get a grip. These hellos between us are always _way_ too emotional for me. It's embarrassing."

"Wolfy Boy! Glad you joined the party, pull up a chair and join in, why don't cha, mate? We were just about to roast ourselves a few weenies," Spike glibly greeted, his eyes wandering towards the imprisoned – and glaring – Skip and the bound – and annoyed – 'Cordelia.'

Off her ex-boyfriend's questioning glance, Willow sighed. "It's a long story."

"We've reformed," both Faith and Spike answered in tandem.

"Ok, so, not _that_ long," the witch sheepishly shrugged.

After a moment, Oz simply gave a non-committal, yet somehow understanding, "Hmm."

"Okay, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, _Whistler_, I resubmit my question," Buffy asked, with a suspicious look on her face. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"And why the hell did you bring _that_ – " an immediately defensive Angel pointed to Lindsey. " – into _my_ home?"

"Aww, I missed you, too, Angel," drawled the ex-lawyer at his longtime adversary.

"_I_ won't," the vampire retorted…just before he moved with preternatural speed, closing the gap between himself and Lindsey before grabbing the smugly grinning man by the lapels of his denim jacket.

"What part of 'Bon Voyage. Don't come back' were you _not_ clear on the last time I saw you?" Angel menaced the former legal prodigy.

Lindsey offered the dark-haired vampire a smirk infuriating enough to give Spike a run for his money. "Probably shouldn't have used French, then, eh, sport? Can't go wrong with good ol' fashioned American English."

"Oh, I've got some English for you, squirt – Don't let my _foot_ kick you in the _ass_ on your way the hell _outta_ here," Angel sneered as he hauled him towards the entrance – only to be blocked by Whistler.

"Whoa, slow it down a minute, Road House! Tex here's with me."

Angel turned his hardened eyes towards the native New York demon, not relenting his grip on Lindsey even by an inch. "_Why_?"

Whistler held his hands up defensively. "Hey, I've just got my marching orders, alright? Don't shoot the messenger."

Buffy glared intently at the cryptic – and annoying – Whistler. "How about I just _pound_ the messenger into a bloody, ugly purple stain unless he starts making with the answer portion of the Q & A?"

Whistler offered the little blonde a bemused smirk. "Hey, look at this. Blondie's still got it in the threatening imagery department. Although, I liked the last one you told me when you threatened to 'pull out my ribcage and wear it as a hat' a lot better."

"Careful what you wish for, Shorty," Buffy returned with a sweet smile only she could make ominous.

Lindsey realized who this blonde, pretty – and violence-prone – girl was. It _had_ to be Buffy Summers. "Geez, Angel, your ex-girl always this hostile?"

The Champion held up a larger fistful of Lindsey's jacket for that remark. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about your _not_-so-ex archenemy about to snap you in half if you don't get the hell out of here."

Annoyed, Lindsey slapped Angel's hands off his jacket. "Hey, quit with the third degree, Nick Knight. I'm not exactly doing backflips about seeing _you_ again, either, okay?"

"That makes two of us," Angel retorted.

"That makes _three_ of us," Faith deadpanned as she stepped closer to the action, her cold doe eyes zeroed in on Lindsey.

"Four," Gunn angrily glowered, as he backed up Faith.

"And baby makes five," Lorne said as he set wary ruby-red eyes on one of his most frequent ex-patrons at _Caritas_.

Oz calmly took in the scene before him. "Okay, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say Lindsey's not too popular round these parts."

Spike frowned. "Faith, you know this urban cowboy wannabe?"

"_Know_ _him_?" the dark-haired Slayer scoffed. "This…_jackass_ once hired me for a hit on Angel, and when the job went south, he hired some Predator-looking demon to take _me_ out. Just to cover his own ass, along with some other legal eagle loser, and that bitch Lilah."

Wesley, whose cold blue eyes had barely left Lindsey since his arrival, swallowed hard at the mention of his dead ex-paramour's name.

Surprised, Lindsey eyed Faith questioningly. "Faith. Didn't expect to see you again…well, at least not for another 25 years-to-life."

"W-wait, this guy hired you to kill Angel?" a surprised Willow asked.

A regretful look crossed Faith's attractive countenance. "After the whole Buffy body-switch thing. Not really a scrapbook moment for me, Red. I was all kinds of messed up back then." She looked to Angel, hopefully. "I know he's human, Angel, but he _is_ evil, so, does it count as a strike against me if I kill him now?"

"_Yes_," both Buffy and Angel replied.

A disappointed Faith sighed. "Wet blankets."

Buffy turned to Angel, confused about his hostility towards the (very hottie-like) stranger in their midst. "Angel, what's going on? Who is this guy?"

"Lindsey McDonald," Wesley calmly, but forcefully cut in, as he hovered closer to the action. "A former lawyer at Wolfram & Hart who has made things quite…difficult for us here at Angel Investigations through the years."

Buffy drew back in surprise. "Woah, back up. Wolfram & Hart? As in…" She looked to Angel for confirmation. Off his nod, she turned hard, green slits towards Lindsey.

Perplexed, Andrew frowned. "What's Wolfram & Hart?"

"They're a law firm, which is actually a front for a cabal of incredibly powerful demons involved in numerous reprehensible operations throughout this and many other dimensions," Giles replied, his eyes narrowing warily towards the denim-clad stranger.

"The Wolf, Ram and Hart? Wow, talk about 'yikes!'" Anya cringed, although she stared somewhat enamored with the attractive man accompanying Oz and the smaller demon with the tacky wardrobe. She had been well aware of the pandimensional law firm's deadly reputation over the last 1,000 years. Heck, D'Hoffryn himself was one of their clients.

"Wait, so evil law firm exists in other _dimensions_? Wow, talk about your aggressive expansion," Xander quipped.

Lindsey regarded the icy Wesley – whose confident, eerily controlled presence was a far cry from the klutzy demonologist he met two years ago – with amused eyes. "Woah! Wesley? When did _you_ find your inner stubble?"

"Glad to see you find me amusing," Wesley replied, his disdain for the ex-lawyer burning plainly in his piercing blue depths. "Consider it a parting gift when we throw you back out the way you came – headfirst."

Connor suddenly took a very defensive position, narrowing his eyes at the stranger. "He worked for Wolfram & Hart?"

Lindsey raised his eyebrows as he regarded the boy. The cold scowl, the blue eyes…there was no doubt in his mind about who this was. "Connor, right?"

"What's it to you?" the boy sneered.

Lindsey flashed that cocky grin again. "Damn, Angel, that boy's even got your sneer downpat. I guess all that crap about trees and apples wasn't so farfetched, huh?"

Connor felt his lips tighten at the comparison to his father – still a subject of confusion to the boy. This guy had been here barely five minutes and already Connor couldn't stand him. Couple that with his rotten mood over what happened with Dawn just a few minutes ago, and he wanted to skin this piece of Sluck muck alive.

"I'll shove that tree right up your ass and through your nose if you so much as _look_ at my son again, Lindsey," Angel growled, his stony brown eyes validating that claim.

Running a hand through his lengthy brown hair, Lindsey was starting to get rapidly agitated. "Look, I get it," he tersely addressed the angry heroes staring him down. "None of us are exactly on each other's Christmas Party lists, but I didn't come down here for the chuckles of seeing the looks on your faces, if that's what you're wondering."

"Then why did you come?"

His head whipped around to find the owner of that soft, angelic voice.

Darla.

Lindsey swallowed as his throat suddenly became dry. There she was, a vision in an off-white cardigan and a lacy, soft pink dress that looked treacherously close to a nightgown. Alive and as beautiful as he remembered her to be.

He did not remember telling his legs to walk. He simply started moving automatically to Darla, as instinctually as a moth flew towards a candle's flame.

"For you."

For a moment, Lindsey forgot where he was. Nothing else mattered to him, except the blue-eyed, golden haired beauty before him. After traveling more than 2,000 miles – 1,000 of them in a rocket-powered van with an infuriating demon messenger and a laconic werewolf – the object of his desire was only a few feet from him.

"I-I had to see it for myself. To see…_you_…for myself."

Now, they were face-to-face. He was close enough to reach out and touch her. Close enough to smell that intoxicating Jasmine scent he had imprinted into his mind. He felt his breath quicken as he found himself getting lost in her pale blue orbs that had always held him in such sway, that could order him to leap into the heart of a volcano and have him gladly swim in fire.

Darla stared at the handsome ex-lawyer, her face an indecipherable mask, her voice breathy, yet seductive. Entrancing.

"Lindsey."

He felt shivers down his spine at the way she said his name.

He felt his voice – normally so strong, so confident – croak softly as her name escaped his lips, his hand tentatively reaching up towards her face.

"Darla…"

Wesley felt his scowl grow rigid enough to crush rocks, feeling a – surprising – wave of jealousy rising in his chest. And for a moment, just for looking at Darla like that, he had to fight every impulse to stalk over there and bash Lindsey's face in.

Turns out, he didn't have to, as Darla beat him to the punch – literally – suddenly hauling back and lashing out with a stinging right hook that connected with Lindsey's jawline.

Surprised, Lindsey let out a yelp of pain as he lost his balance and fell to the floor. Clutching his injured jaw, he could only stare in bewilderment into the former vampire's suddenly frigid blue eyes.

"You shouldn't have come here," Darla said, the frosty edge in her voice surpassed only by the glacial stare of those light blue eyes. "Now, please…_get out_."

With a final glare, she suddenly turned on her heels and walked back into Angel's office, slamming the doors behind her.

A pin could have been heard dropping in the lobby as everyone either stood or sat in stunned silence.

An amused Spike let out a derisive chuckle. "Ooh! Didn't see _that_ coming."

Shaking off the feeling of dejection and stunned heartache, Lindsey scrambled to his feet and moved towards the doors. "Darla…Darla, please, wait, just listen for a sec –"

With a sudden swiftness that Angel could have appreciated, Wesley cut off Lindsey's path.

Not a trace of pity could be seen in the Englishman's blue eyes. "I think the lady made it clear she doesn't want to talk to you."

"And I think you better get the hell outta my way, Stubble Boy," an angered and determined Lindsey spat.

Wesley, coolly regarding the man, was unimpressed. "Think you can _make_ me?"

An obvious challenge – and one that Lindsey couldn't resist. "Not think. _Know_."

Without warning, Lindsey reached up and tried to grab hold of Wesley's brown leather jacket. But Wesley's new training kicked in as he smoothly, quickly raised both hands between his attacker's arms to part them away from him, then shooting out a hard left palm, striking Lindsey between the chest and pushing him backwards, creating distance between the two.

Lindsey's Irish temper kicked in as he began to lead in with his left, his right hand balled tightly in a fist that desperately wanted to connect to Wesley's face –

– only to be frozen in his tracks when a slim, but sharp blade suddenly extended from under Wesley's right arm, swinging upwards in a deadly arc and stopping just short of Lindsey's jugular.

Wesley gave another level stare towards his opponent, a deadly gleam in his eye. "If _I_ were you, I wouldn't try that again."

Despite the cool blade resting against his throat, Lindsey gave the other man a quiet, yet mocking chuckle. "See, that's the thing, Wes, Ol' Boy – you're _not_ me. Because us Midwestern folk wouldn't be caught dead bringing a knife – "

In a flash, a click-clack sound was followed by Lindsey's right hand jerking up with a weapon of his own – a 9-mm semiautomatic pistol, aimed squarely at Wesley's face.

"…to a gunfight," Lindsey finished with a slick smile.

Yet Wesley remained calm. "Thanks for the tip."

With that, he twisted his left wrist, and out shot a semiautomatic gun of his own, bringing it right between Lindsey's forehead.

"We British _do_ pride ourselves on adaptation," he grimly quipped, a contrast to the humorless expression on his rugged features.

Lindsey gave a begrudged look of respect. "Huh. Well, look who came to play."

No sooner had he said that when another icy blade propped against his neck – one coming from a large Irish broadsword held by a glaring Angel.

"I think we're _done_ playing, Lindsey," he said, his voice very much an extension of his sword – smooth, yet lethal. "You heard Darla. _Get out_."

"No can do, Angel," Whistler said as he approached the former Scourge of Europe from behind. "Lindsey stays."

"Gotta disagree with you, there, Whistler," Angel growled, his blade holding still against his former enemy's throat.

"This ain't a debate, Kull," the smaller demon insisted. "He's supposed to be here."

Angel wasn't budging. "Why?"

An irritated Buffy ground her teeth in frustration. "Whistler, we don't have a lot of time here, so it's time for you to play Give or Take – where either you give us answers, or I start taking your body parts with a rusty knife."

"Look, if everybody just puts away their toys for a second – and quit with the evisceration promises – I can explain everything," Whistler said, trying to rein in his patience.

Reluctantly, all three men lowered their weapons.

At the tension in the room, 'Cordelia' let out a mordant snort. "Nice job, Lindsey. And here they were, almost getting back on the same page. Way to play spoiler."

Lindsey didn't even glance at her, his hard eyes trained on Wesley. "You have no idea, you overgrown leech. And nobody was talking to you."

Wesley's eyes narrowed at one word his foe said. "'Leech?'"

"Oh, fudge," Skip groaned, as he now realized what they were here to do.

Buffy was quick to put two and two together. "Wait a minute…you know what she is?"

"And where she came from," Lindsey replied.

"And more importantly, what it really wants," Whistler added, turning to Angel. "So…he stays, right?"

"Pfft! Yeah, right!" 'Cordelia' scoffed, realizing she had to do something before Lindsey and that scruffy little messenger spilled the beans and ruined everything. "Like Angel's going to let an ex-flunkie from Wolfram and Hart – a guy who had his apartment/business office blown up, his friends targeted and once had him tazered – into his home? Angel might be a little slow on the draw, but even he's not that stupid…"…even Buffy, brainiac of the Valley Girl Braindead Society that she is, wouldn't be that stupid."

Both Slayer and Champion glared at the possessed Seer for that comment.

Turning back to Whistler, Angel let out a breathless sigh. True, he still had issues with Lindsey, but if they had answers to their questions…well, it wouldn't be the first time in his immortal life that he made a bargain with someone he hated to get something he wanted.

"Fine," the vampire deadpanned. "He stays. But he gets out of line, I think for a second that he'll betray our friends, or God help him, if he's somehow behind all this, I'm going to feed him his own liver."

Lindsey was getting downright frustrated. How many times was he supposed to say that he was trying to help here? "Relax, Hannibal. I'm just here to do the right thing."

"Right thing?" Angel scoffed as he slowly advanced on Lindsey. "Yeah, okay. Somehow I find it hard to believe you give a rat's ass about that unless the right thing is suddenly defined as finding another way into Darla's pants."

"Like you're not trying to find your way back into your ex-gal pal Buffy's pants?" Lindsey challenged, meeting the vampire head on.

Flushed red, and offended, Buffy scowled at the former lawyer. "_Excuse me_, Mister Soon-To-Be-Kicked-In-The-Nuts?"

A rush of rage flooded Angel as he got into Lindsey's face, snarling. "Go ahead. Say that again, and see what happens, Lindsey. It'll be funny – in that hilarious tearing-your-vocal cords-out kind of way."

To his credit, Lindsey bravely held his ground. "You think I'm afraid of you?"

Angel turned that frightening icy leer he had perfected over 247 years on the former lawyer. "You _should_ be."

"Alright, _geez_, would you cut it out with the Ringo vs Holliday routine?" Whistler threw up his hands, his patience finally at its ends meet. "Look, we get the point. Archrivals who hate each other, sordid love triangles, Buffy and Spike, Buffy and Angel, Angel and Cordelia, Lindsey and Darla, who cares? Newsflash, people, we're having an apocalypse here, not a casting call for _General Hospital_, so can we please focus on – "

"Buffy and _who_?" a surprised Angel whirled on Whistler.

The blonde Slayer paled as her jaw gaped open in shock. How the hell did Whistler know about that? And…_Oh, God…Angel…_

Stunned, an angry Spike scowled at Whistler. "Hey! How'd you know 'bout that, ya little wanker, and just who are – "

He trailed off as Angel's eyes suddenly trained on him with a gaze mixed with shock, revulsion, and none-too-disguised rage.

Ever the petulant one, Spike met his Grandsire's glower with a challenging glare, as if to say, _Yeah, me and Buffy. What of it, poof?_

Faith, like the others, sat in astounded stillness. Unlike the others, however, her eyes could barely leave Spike. While Spike's affair with her longtime rival was no surprise to her, she had to say, watching it unfold in front of everyone was really…not cool.

Angel wanted to believe that he misheard what Whistler had said. But his mind replayed the earlier conversations when the Scooby Gang plowed through the hotel's front lobby in crushed school buses…

_There's no happiness clause in my soul...I can do whatever I want...get OFF whenever I want...on whomever..._

_Spike has a soul, he's on my side, which means he's on OUR side. Spike stays, and if ANYONE tries to hurt him, they'll have to answer to me! Understood?_

Angel turned to stare at a still-shocked Buffy, his eyes filled with questions. And pain. And anger.

"What's going on, Buffy?" his question was soft, but the hint of barely controlled emotion was all too loud to ignore.

Buffy flushed under the intensity of his gaze. "L-look, Angel, this really isn't the time to – "

"Buffy and _**Spike**__ ?_"

All eyes turned to a smugly laughing 'Cordelia.' "Wow, Buffy, guess you've got a thing for necrophilia or something, huh? Traded in Tall, Dark and Brooding for Short, Blonde and Peroxide-brained, huh? So, much for that 'true love soulmate' crap you've been feeding your little Slayerettes."

As she talked, Buffy calmly, unassumingly walked towards Cordelia's imposter –

'Cordelia' continued to crow tauntingly. "I guess that old saying is true – if you're not with the one you love…love the undead corpse you're wi – "

– and cold-cocked her with a hard punch to the skull, leaving the talkative brunette's head hanging limply as she lay bound to the tilt table.

Fred gasped in shock at Buffy's sudden display of violence, which drew stunned looks from both the Fang Gang and the Scoobies.

"_Buffy_! What the _hell_…?" Angel scolded, harshly.

The blonde Slayer simply shrugged. "What? Oh, come on, guys, you know that wasn't meant for Cordy. Just Evil, Fake, Doesn't-Know-When-To-Shut-the-Hell-Up Cordy."

Buffy wouldn't admit it outloud, as she felt rather ashamed of it, but knocking out 'Cordelia' – not just for that little crack about her and Spike, but given the increasing green-eyed sensation she'd been getting about the Seer and Angel – was strangely…satisfying.

The feeling quickly dissipated when Angel's disapproving glare lingered on her, making her feel about 2 inches tall.

"That's it!" Whistler snapped, well beyond even his well-elevated boiling point. "I'm breaking up this high school drama crap right the hell now." Pointed to Buffy, Angel, Lindsey, Willow, Wesley and Giles. "All of you – in the war room, or study, or whatever. As in, _now_ish. It's time to talk shop o' horrors. And boy, we've got a _lot_ to talk about."

As they began to march towards Angel's study – where Darla was still likely seething – Angel let his hard gaze linger on Buffy, still wrestling with his feelings of anger for Buffy's physical outburst towards his Seer plus the revulsion, rage and jealousy that three words invoked in his soul – Buffy and Spike.

"Damn right, we do."

Buffy sighed. _Great. Just what I needed…add even more drama to an apocalypse. 'Cause God knows we don't have enough of __**that**__ in one of __**those**__. _

Taking advantage of that moment, Connor quietly slipped upstairs. He still didn't know how, but he had to fix things with Dawn. The girl was becoming...important to him. And he couldn't leave things like this.

Willow turned to Oz, apologetically. "Uh, sorry, Oz, looks like we're going to have to wait before we catch up."

He waived it off. "It's okay, Will," he softly replied. "Go. They need the big guns on this."

"Not fair. You're a big gun, too," she protested.

Smiling, Oz shook his head. "More of a pocket sized revolver, actually. Willow…I waited three years to see you again. I can wait a few more minutes."

She beamed at him, sweetly, her heart flipping at his words. "You sure you'll be okay, y'know, out here with everyone."

"You know me, Red," he winked. "I've always got something to talk about."

She teasingly rolled her eyes at that comment, before she walked in to join the others in their big powwow.

After watching the others walk towards the office – leaving Spike, Faith, Xander, Gunn, Lorne, Fred, Andrew, and Anya behind – Oz turned around to face the group.

What does one say after three years abroad to one old friend, two former enemies, one sort-of familiar girl, and four complete strangers in the same room as two evil adversaries?

Oz shrugged, nonchalantly. "So…got anything to eat around here?"

At this, Andrew beamed. "Ooh! Do you like Flan?"

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

Up next: The secret behind Cordy's mysterious pregnancy is revealed. And Buffy must team with the one person she never expected for a deadly ritual that could save Cordy, or destroy them.

Plus – a reeling Dawn and a smitten, but confused Connor have a heart-to-heart talk. What's Kennedy going to think about Oz's return? And just what will Angel say about the news of Buffy and Spike?

And…the First's recruits an old, deadly enemy from our heroes' pasts to cause more havoc.

Well, that's it for me! Gotta go, work tomorrow. Please read and review!


	18. Part16 Orbs, Angst and Angry,Crazy Vamps

A/N: I found something on the other day that really pissed me off. It turns out somebody lifted not only my story concept, but a few of my lines from this story, too, into a Mary Sued rip-off of my fanfic (and a not really well-written one, either). I'm not going to mention their name, as they doesn't deserve the free plug, but if you're reading this - whoever you are - you ought to be ashamed of yourself. It took me many long hours to write these chapters. So for you to not even ask permission to use my material is just wrong. Writing is about originality, not plagiarism. Very amateur, pal.

Sorry about that little rant, guys. Aside from that, thanks to everyone who reviewed, including MacKenzie Creations, angel098756, Floaging, bajatadancer, EmeraldWings90, Pokee (I'll really think about your offer as a BETA - I'm strongly considering it at this point), Katrin DKS, my girl Imzadi, supernatural-fan18, BloodyTink, Dark Vizard447, Angellufy, teamtiva, ashes at midnight, David Fishwick and Philly cheese dude. You're all awesome!

By the way, there's still a few familiar faces that have yet to pop up. Who? Well, you'll find out soon enough ;) Always enjoy the feedback. Want to see something cool, or a pairing hook-up, or maybe another face pop in? Just hit the Review link at the bottom of the screen or email me.

Now, sit back, grab a soda and get your popcorn ready, because here comes the latest chapter of:

* * *

**Bring Me To Life - A BtVS/Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 16 - Orbs, Angst and Angry, Crazy Vamps**

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Angel's Study**

**Now**

* * *

Darla stood alone in Angel's study, rubbing her arms in a self-comforting gesture, as she listened to the muffled noises of a fight going on outside.

Seeing Lindsey again brought too many memories, very few of them pleasant, back to the surface…

_The disorienting, frightened vertigo she experienced as she awoke in a crate after being resurrected by the 'good folks' at Wolfram & Hart. _

_Guilt over tormenting poor Angel in his sleep with temptingly erotic visions, and getting that poor, clueless actor killed when she and Lindsey tried to set Angel up for murder. _

_The unbearable agony she suffered as her soul finally began to make her feel remorse for every life she'd violently ended during her four hundred year rampage as one of history's most infamous vampires. _

_The inescapable fear as her impending death - a result of her newly activated syphilis - ticked ever closer to fruition. _

_The desperation that drove her to seek out that mullet-sporting, pimple-faced loser of a vampire in that dive of a bar, to turn her. _

_And of course, the most hurtful - the unheeded plea for mercy in her eyes she'd directed at Lindsey as her psychotic Grandchilde Drusilla turned her back into the thing she'd come to hate, the thing she, at last, was finally able to break free of as Angel had held her comfortingly in that hotel room…a vampire. A killer..._

Darla shut her eyes, shaking her head clear of those thoughts.

A part of her was livid at the sight of him - here, _now_ - after all this time. A part of her hated Lindsey for his part in what Dru did to her, taking from her what no one had the right to take. Darla had every reason to hate him…

…so why did her heart jump slightly at the sight of that damnably handsome bastard?

Darla's thoughts were interrupted as the doors swung open and Angel and Buffy walked in, followed by Willow, Whistler, Wesley, Giles - and Lindsey.

Her pale blue-green eyes widened in surprise and outrage as she saw Lindsey's remorseful stare directed at her.

"What is _he_ still doing here?" Darla spat out, as she turned to Angel, not bothering, or caring, to see how Lindsey flinched at the venom in her voice.

Angel shook his head. "Apparently, helping us."

"_That_ remains to be seen," a derisive Wesley muttered not-too-softly, prompting a stern look from Giles and Angel.

Now it was Darla's turn to shake her head. "I want him _gone_."

Giles approached Darla, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "N-now, now, Darla, whatever it is that this man has done to you, I'm sure we can put it aside for the moment to focus our energies on -"

"He had Drusilla turn me back into a vampire, against my will, after I came back from the dead three years ago," she curtly interrupted. "He's responsible for all the people I slaughtered afterwards as well. Still think we can just put _that_ aside, Giles?"

Giles pulled back, aghast, while Willow gaped in surprise and Buffy's jaw dropped as she recalled what Angel had told her a few hours ago - the story of how Darla was forced to drink from Spike's crazy 'ho of a sire.

Her eyes found Angel's again. "Wait, you mean this guy's the one who had you tazered and brought in Drusilla to…"

Angel only offered her a curt nod, as he was still processing the news of Buffy's apparent…relationship with that idiot Spike.

The cool gesture was not unnoticed by the Slayer, who swallowed hard as she realized just how much Whistler's inappropriate outburst had…complicated things.

Shaking that thought off, Buffy gave Darla, who was shaking with anger, something she never imagined she would ever give the ex-vampire who'd nearly killed her friends and family - a look of sympathy. After all of this time, nearly eight years after being Called, Buffy's worst fear was still the possibility of becoming the thing she'd sworn to kill, a vampire.

Death she could handle…hell, she'd already done it twice. But being undead…Buffy never wanted to do that, to put those she loved through that.

Off seeing Darla's downcast eyes after Buffy looked at her, Lindsey felt a sense of self-loathing and regret wash over him. He was pretty sure if he closed his eyes right now, he could still see that wounded look in her eyes from that fateful night.

Whistler, sensing the former lawyer's feelings, leaned in to whisper into his ear. "Look, Lindsey, she's still a little shaken up, so maybe you shouldn't say anything right now."

His words were of no avail, as Lindsey began to address Darla, struggling to find his voice. "Darla…look, I know I hurt you, and -"

Wincing, Darla threw up her hands as she began to head out of the room. "I can't do this right now."

Wesley quickly caught up to her, gently grabbing her arm. "Darla, wait. I realize this is very uncomfortable for you -"

"_That's_ an understatement if I ever heard one," she scoffed.

"- but we need your help on this," the ex-Watcher continued with an uncharacteristic (as-of-late) gentleness. "You have every right to be furious. But I have to ask you to put all of that aside, at least for the moment. Please, Darla…we can't do this without you."

Lindsey felt bile rise in his throat as she saw how Darla's demeanor changed at Wesley's gentle tone, how she seemed to relax at his touch. He was never able to get that kind of reaction out of her, except for that one kiss…

At last, Darla gave a consenting nod as she sighed. "All right. Fine."

The Englishman rewarded her with a half-smile, which she returned with a full, dazzling one. It was at that moment that Whistler noticed Lindsey's right fist tremble as it curled into a tight ball, the jealousy in his blue eyes strong enough to make them turn green.

_Ain't love grand,_ the messenger for the Powers rolled his eyes, before clearing his throat to speak. "Okay, getting back to the business at hand…we've got ourselves a little badness brewing, y'know?"

"Try a whole heap of badness topped off with extra apocalypse sauce served with a side order of doom fries," Buffy replied. "You said you had intel, Whistler. _Now_ would be a good time to start sharing before I make you start bleeding."

"Hey, if I want this kind of abuse, I'll put on a Red Sox cap and take a walk through the Bronx," he bristled.

"_Whistler_," Angel ground out warningly.

"All right, all right," Whistler muttered. "First thing's first, though - tell me you haven't done any spells on Possessed Girl tied up out there?"

"We were about to, after we finished asking her some questions," Willow said.

With raised eyebrows, Whistler turned to Angel and Buffy. "You guys actually thought that thing would _talk_ to you? The word 'pointless' comes to mind."

"The word '_pummeling'_ sounds even better unless you hurry up with the explanations," Buffy chirped.

Opting to suppress the instinct to respond with another quip, Whistler pressed on, placing the large black duffel bag on Angel's desk. Unzipping the bag, he pulled out a blue, egg-shaped crystal the size of a basketball, setting it on the desk.

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Tiffany's version of an over-glorified Easter egg?"

"Try the thing that's going to help you guys save your seer friend without getting zapped by the Big Bad inside of her," Whistler replied.

A look of recognition dawned on Giles's face. "Dear God. Is, is that what I think it is…?"

Whistler nodded. "Yup. The Orb of Makai." (A/N: It's pronounced "Muh-K-eye")

Willow was stunned. "Orb of Makai? B-but I thought it was just a myth, like the Loch Ness Monster or something!"

"Oh, it's real all right," Lindsey replied. "It's just been out of play for a few thousand years."

Confused, Buffy raised her hand. "Okay, back it up. What exactly is this Orb of…MacGyver?"

Lindsey gave Buffy a strange look at her mispronunciation. He could not help but wonder, how the hell did this girl ever get a 1430 on her SATs? _Maybe she cheated, or it was all part of the manipulation…_

Off the blonde Slayer's _What-the-hell-are-YOU-looking-at? _glare, McDonald cautiously explained, "The orb is a sacred relic, thousands of years old. It draws on the power of Makai, a redeemed demon that ascended to godhood eons ago after forsaking the lies of darkness to seek the truth in the light of justice."

Off Buffy's frown, Whistler simplified the ancient tale. "Former bad guy-turned-Champion for the Powers."

"Oh," Buffy nodded. "Well, why didn't he just say so?"

"Wait, I remember this now," Angel jumped in. "The orb was forged by a group of benevolent mystics in ancient Sumeria, centuries ago. In 2500 BC, it was supposedly in the possession of King Gilgamesh."

"The demigod King of Uruk," Darla recalled. "It granted him the strength of a hundred men…"

"And the power to see into the heart of all things," Wesley added. "Beyond magic, beyond all illusion."

"Yeah…but it came into the possession of Wolfram & Hart circa the 22nd century BC after Sargon the Great conquered and pillaged Uruk. He was a client, and gave the orb to the then-avatar of the firm in exchange for the power to create his own empire," Lindsey said. "It was eventually transferred into the vaults of the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart. But there were a ton of other things down there with it. It wasn't all that hard for it to go…missing."

"You stole it," Angel surmised.

Lindsey offered a scornful smirk. "No, I used my library card to take it out on loan. Of _course_ I stole it! Ducked down into the vaults just before the day I quit and left town. Needed a little protection, in case the firm decided to come after me."

Buffy was beginning to feel like the dumb kid in the back of the class more and more, by the minute. "Okay, that's all nice and prose-y. But what the hell does any of that mean for us now?"

"It's said that the orb grants whoever owns it extraordinary powers," Giles said. "Including the ability to repel even divine powers."

"Divine? Like a god's?" the blonde Slayer asked, now intrigued.

Whistler tapped his nose. "You betcha, kid. Would've come in rather handy against Glory, huh?"

A bitter look flashed in Buffy's blue-green eyes at the mention of one of her most hated enemies, the now-dead hellgod that had attempted to kill her sister. "Better late than never, huh? Okay…well, that's nice, but this helps us how, exactly? Are the demons hitching a ride in Cordy's skin _that_ powerful?"

"Well, that's the thing, Dimples," Whistler said. "Only one of those things is a demon. The other thing…well, that's something different entirely."

Buffy and Angel glanced in worry at one another. Nervously, Buffy turned back to Whistler. "This…isn't the part where you tell me that it's a god in there, is it? Because that didn't turn out too well for me the last time."

"Believe me, kid, I wish we _were_ just dealing with some crazy hellgod here," Whistler shook his head. "Glory's just a flyweight compared to this thing."

A sense of growing dread crept over Angel as he asked, "Then what is it?"

The immortal demon paused for a moment…right before he dropped the bombshell.

"A Power," Whistler said. "A Power That Be." He frowned. "Or Is. Or Was, or whatever the right tense is to call it."

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Dawn's Quarters**

**Now**

* * *

When Molly and Vi came in to the upstairs hotel room, they found what they'd expected to find - a sad Dawn staring gloomily out the window into the dark night of LA, watching any number of cars pass by. The moonlight illuminated her face just enough to highlight the dim sparkle of tear tracks staining her fair cheeks.

Molly and Vi exchanged concerned looks with each other. They knew Dawn had fallen hard for Connor, so hearing that he was a father-to-be (of demon spawn that was probably going to destroy the world) had to sting more than just a little. Still, to see their friend so obviously broken-hearted was difficult to take.

"You guys planning to take a picture, or is there something you want?" Dawn morosely muttered without turning around.

Red-faced, Vi began talking. "Dawn…we, uh, we just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Peachy," Dawn sighed, her eyes still fixated on the world outside her window. "Keen, even."

Molly raised an eyebrow at that statement. "So, it's a Yank custom to sit alone staring outside a window crying your eyes out when things are peachy?"

"You're British, Moll, you wouldn't understand," Dawn smartly remarked, while roughly brushing her face with the sleeve of her shirt. "And I wasn't crying."

"Dawn, come on. It's okay," Vi coaxingly spoke. "We're your friends, you don't have to be all stone-faced about it."

"I don't wanna talk about it," Dawn quietly said, her voice thick with hurt.

Vi sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. Turning to Molly, she gestured her head towards the window, motioning for her to follow. With uncertainty, the British Potential followed the quirky redhead towards where Dawn sat.

Silently, Vi sat down on the wooden window sill where Dawn was. Off Vi's action, Dawn eyed her friend with a harsh blue-eyed glare, trying to fend off her affectionate concern. Yet, Vi didn't even flinch, staring intently with worried clear blue eyes at the brunette.

Molly watched the staring contest between the two with fascination…

After a beat, Dawn sighed in resignation. "You're good."

"It's a gift," Vi smirked. "Nobody could beat me in staring contests, not even as a kid."

"Yeah, _that'll_ come in handy when fighting vampires," Molly quipped.

Ignoring Molly - who Vi threw a playful, yet annoyed glare at - Dawn rested her head against the giant window's frame as she sorted out her feelings. "This is so…it doesn't make any sense, you know? I mean, I've known the guy for less than a day. It's none of my business who he's boffed before I came here. It's only natural, I guess. I mean, Connor's, like, eighteen, right? And he's a guy…a tall, really cute guy with that whole sexy bad-boy thing going on, and he's all conflicted and brave and he saved my life a few times and -" Her eyes widened. "Oh, God, what's _wrong_ with me?"

"Something's wrong?"

The girls turned their heads to see Amanda and Anna - whose face was still bruised - at the door.

"Oh, hey, 'Manda," Vi greeted. "Almost forgot about you."

"I'm in a high school marching band. That tends to happen," Amanda shrugged philosophically, before brightening. "So, looks like you guys made it back okay. Everything went fine?"

"We got the bad guy - er, girl," Dawn responded. "Buffy, Angel and the others are downstairs pulling a Regan MacNeil on her or something."

Off Anna's confused stare, Amanda replied, "_Exorcist_ reference," before turning back to the others. "That's great! So you guys are, like, heroes…but in that case, what's with the glum faces? And where's Connor?"

Off the mention of that name, Dawn looked away, staring forlornly out the window.

Amanda immediately assumed the worse. "Oh, God. Did something happen to him? Is he…is he dead?"

"Worse," Molly replied. "Dawn found out he's the father of this Cordelia chippie's baby."

Amanda, not expecting that, drew back, her mouth forming a small 'Oh.' Walking closer to the group, Amanda gave her fellow brunette and Sunnydale High classmate a sympathetic look. She had seen how they'd been looking at each other before they took off on their crazy heroes-in-training journey.

"You okay?" Amanda asked sympathetically.

Dawn gave her friend a faint smile for her concern. "Not really. I just feel so…stupid right now." She ran frustrated hands back across her shiny dark hair. "When we were hiding, trying to trap Cordy in the factory, he…told me things. Personal things. A-and I told him stuff, too. About me, my mom, Buffy…I thought we were, like, connecting. He has issues with parents, I have issues with parents. We both have weirdness in our biological backgrounds. Like we were almost the same. I…I really liked him."

Her friends shared a knowing, yet sad look. Being teenage girls, they all knew the pain of a crush gone wrong.

"Well, maybe he had a reason to hide being a daddy-to-be," Vi suggested. Of Dawn's surprised and offended glare, Vi backpedaled. "_Not_ that it's any excuse for hiding it, or anything! But…he grew up in some kind of demon world, right? I'm thinking that's gotta mess up your chances of relating to people. Maybe he didn't get that lying equals badness."

"Isn't that something you learn in pre-school?" Anna scoffed.

"Unless they have child day-care in hell dimensions, I'm thinking Connor probably missed that lesson," Molly primly replied, before turning to Dawn. "Dawn, to be fair, he seemed really upset after you went upstairs."

"And I'm _not_?" Dawn indignantly retorted. "He _lied_ to me, Moll. I told him nearly everything about me, and he never told me the truth about Cordelia's baby-hellspawn-thing. That sort of secret was kind of key to know while we were trying to take her down. Instead, he conveniently left that part out - and it could have gotten us killed."

Hurt and insecurity flooded the pretty face of the Slayer's baby sister. "What if he…what if it was all in my head? What if it was all a game or something to him?" Dawn's voice was a saddened hush. "What if…what if he never even liked me at all?"

The girls fell silent, unsure of what to say that could be of any comfort to the youngest Summers woman.

"That's not true."

Dawn's surprised blue orbs whipped towards the door, where Connor stood, hands in his pockets, an (even-more-so) tentative and uncertain look on the always-conflicted youth's face.

"I _do_ like you," Connor said, with a soft earnestness in his voice that made the butterflies in Dawn's stomach flutter madly. "A lot."

That response drew a warm smile from Molly and dreamy looks from Amanda and Vi. Even Anna - still freaked out by Connor kidnapping her, and almost getting her killed less than twenty-four hours ago - admitted silently that that was a really smooth line.

* * *

With the exception of Lindsey, everyone else in the room grew silent at the horrifying truth revealed by Whistler.

"Y-you're joking, right? Whistler, _please_, tell me you're joking," Buffy blurted out.

Angel shook his head in disbelief. "That…that's not possible."

"It _can't_ be," Wesley muttered, astonishment widening his sharp blue irises.

Giles removed his glasses, his seasoned green eyes wide in shock. "Y-y-you're saying the Powers That Be, the all-powerful beings that are supposed to represent everything benevolent in this universe, who supposedly watch over mankind and guide the forces of light and justice - are actually _behind_ these horrors?"

"Not all of them," Whistler corrected Giles. "Just one."

"_Which_ _one_?" Angel demanded.

"As if _you'd_ know, even if he told you?" Lindsey scoffed. "They just give you marching orders through the visions Cordelia used to get. It's not exactly like you're on a first-name basis with them, is it, Nosferatu?"

Angel turned menacing eyes towards the ex-lawyer. "I'm about to be on a first-name basis with both your lungs if you don't start contributing something useful, Lindsey."

"I'd really, really have to agree with him on that," Buffy scowled, folding her arms across her chest as she glared at Lindsey.

Lindsey only snorted. "See, this is the problem with you so-called hero types. You're quick to make with the threats and the action, but the thinking? The brains? Well, I guess that's what you've got your…" he trailed off, disdainfully regarding Wesley. "…_flunkies_ for."

The ex-Watcher stiffened, before his upper lip curled into a sneer as he moved towards Lindsey in an attack posture. However, Darla quickly put a small hand to his chest, imploring him with a soft look not to strike out at Lindsey - who felt another stab of jealousy as he observed how her tender gesture made Wesley physically relax.

Shaking off the feeling, Lindsey turned his condescending eyes back to Angel and Buffy. "It - the Power - technically doesn't have a name…well, not one that can be pronounced by any humanoid tongue."

Buffy frowned, realizing something. "Again with that no-name thing. Wasn't that what Skip was yammering about earlier?"

Angel caught that look in his eye - that shrewd glint when the detective in him figured something out. "He said that his boss didn't have a name. Maybe it does…it just wasn't one that a low-level lackey like Skip would be allowed to know."

"Because of the power in that name," Darla realized, her eyes far away in thought. "I think that's what their weaknesses are. The Powers, I mean. Their power is…in their true names."

"Their _names_?" Willow frowned. "That's a little weird. Their Kryptonite just a simple 'Hi, my name is BLANK'?"

"It's not so weird, i-if you think about it," Giles mused. "In Kabbalistic theology, God's true name - not Yahweh, o-or Jehovah, but the TRUE name of the Creator - contains too much power for all but the most experienced adept to handle."

"Because they believe naming God would somehow take away His significance," Wesley surmised. "That's it, then. Reveal the name…"

"…and the Power becomes powerless," Angel deduced. Turning to Whistler, he said, "But that still doesn't answer the question as to why this…Power…is here. The Powers That Be have never taken on a direct role in anything, though God knows we could have used their direct help a couple apocalypses ago."

"Yeah, so why'd one of them finally decide to get their hands dirty?" Buffy asked.

Whistler sighed. "This particular Power is something of a…maverick, if you will. Emotional, impulsive, headstrong. Total aberration from the others. But it's also one of the strongest among them, so much so that even the other Powers were always a little afraid of it. The Powers have always believed that mankind has to be in control of their own destiny."

"So, that 'you-are-the-pilot-of-your-own-life' self-help crap is what the big guys are into?" Buffy scoffed. "Sounds like a cop-out for not wanting to fix things, if you ask me."

The half-demon messenger shrugged. "Hey, nobody said they were all-perfect, just all-powerful. Free will, the right to choose…that's what makes the human race the great enigma. For some reason, when humanity crawled out of the primordial soup, they could think and act for themselves. That's why Earth, this realm, has been the focal point of everything in existence. The heart of the great experiment that is life."

"Some beings, demons if you like, they do what they do because they're told to, or because it's instinct. Right from the start. No say in the matter. It is what it is. But humans? Not so much. People can either choose to do something, or choose not to. Choices that may not be great, or smart, or healthy. But they do it because it's their right. Because they can. That's a gift the Powers see as precious - the gift of Choice." He paused. "This Power that brought about the Rain of Fire, amongst other things? Doesn't see it that way. Thinks free will is a curse, not a blessing. Got disillusioned by all the wars, cruelty, racism, hatred, corruption, man's inhumanity to man. Thought it'd pull some strings, shake things up, bring about peace on Earth the old-fashioned way - by force."

"_Peace_?" a puzzled Willow blurted. "What kind of bad guy's big master plan is to bring world peace?"

"Well, that's where you're not seeing the problem, Samantha Stevens," Whistler said. "This disgruntled Power thinks that it's doing the right thing. That it's saving the world from itself. In its mind, it's not fighting the good guys…it _is_ the good guy."

"Yeah, right," Buffy sarcastically muttered. "Such a good guy that it hijacks the body of one of our friends, rains down fire on LA - killing thousands of people in the process - blocks out the sun to turn this city into an all-you-can-eat demon buffet, and lets Angelus out of his cage to terrorize people!"

"All means to an end, apparently," Lindsey mused. "Everything comes at a price. And world peace? Now _that's_ an omelet that's gonna need more than a few eggs broken."

"And Connor? Where did my son fit into this?" demanded Darla, motherly concern filling her. "Is he another one of those eggs in this stupid omelet?"

Whistler scratched the back of his head nervously, knowing that he was treading on a delicate topic. "Well…"

"Skip was rambling on earlier about how everything was manipulated, right from the start. The Trials and Connor's birth, for example," Angel filled in. His eyes bored with force into the smaller demon's. "How'd this thing use my kid?"

Whistler sighed heavily. "You won Darla a second life, but she couldn't use it because she was already living her second life, thanks to Wolfram & Hart."

"You mean when she worked with Evil, Inc. to try to turn Angel evil again," Buffy queried, shooting Darla an accusatory stare, which the ex-vampire's blue-green eyes averted in guilt.

"_She was different then_," both Wesley and Lindsey angrily retorted, which caused them to turn to each other in brief surprise, followed by irritated glares.

"_Okay_, yeesh!" Buffy backed off, noting how Darla's cheeks had flushed at both men's actions.

"I already know all of this. I went through hell and high…well, holy water to win Darla a new life, and it was all for nothing," Angel pseudo-sighed.

"No, it wasn't," Darla quickly, yet softly objected as she met Angel's disheartened brown eyes. "Not to _me_."

The softened glance Angel gave her in return brought Mr. Green Eyes back in full force inside Buffy's heart - although not nearly with as much force as the 'Cordelia' thing had.

"And not to the renegade Power, either," Whistler's voice drew their attention. "That second life was still Darla's to use, somehow or other, so the Big Bad manipulated things to make her use it to create a life in the traditional way- after Angel's crappy night threw him into Darla's bed."

Darla swallowed. "So that's how I became pregnant with Connor."

Lindsey nodded in sympathy. "Afraid so, darlin'. Child of two vampires - particularly two as strong as you and Angel were - that is one powerful being. His conception should have been impossible. His birth broke all the rules, and that created the loophole the Power needed to reach its real goal. Sorry, Darla, but that boy was never supposed to exist."

At that, Darla shot Lindsey a scowl so poisonous it nearly made him flinch. "People exist for all kinds of reasons."

Picturing Dawn's impish face in her mind, Buffy felt compelled to back Darla up. "Damn right, they do," she stoutly said.

Off Darla's surprised face at her unexpected defense, Buffy offered her a slight, yet civil nod of solidarity, which the ex-vampire returned in kind.

"Wait a second," Angel interjected. "The night of her birthday, Cordy said that she was turned into a part-demon - before she eventually ascended to the Higher Planes. How'd that figure into things?"

"Well, for starters, Skip was lying through his teeth when he told her that," Whistler explained. "C'mon, the Higher Planes? That's a pretty exclusive club. Fatal to demons, humans and other lower beings. It's a realm of complete peace, tranquility, goodness. Unless you're a purely benevolent being completely devoid of any darkness, any malice, even a hint of a bad thought_…ZAP_!" he snapped his fingers. "You'd be roasted, toasted and burned to a crisp by the cosmic energy there."

"Then it couldn't have been a part of a demon that Cordy was infected with," Darla deduced.

Wesley figured it out. "It was part of the Power's essence. Its own life force."

Buffy's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wait. So Cordy was actually part-higher power? Wow. And I thought she was holier-than-thou when she was trashing people's outfits with Harmony and the other Cordettes back at Sunnydale High."

While Angel threw Buffy a stern look, Willow gave her best friend a wry smirk; thinking back to the earlier, bitchier days of Cordelia Chase, who was more into visions of over-the-top expensive Manolo Blahniks than visions of helpless souls in need of saving. To this day, it still amazed Willow how that self-absorbed bitca who'd tormented her nearly all through high school underwent such an incredible metamorphosis into a caring, yet brave demon fighter as the Seer, the Vision Girl, the heart of Angel Investigations.

"That explains the weird glowing, floating and all the other stuff she was able to do after that," Angel realized. "Those weren't demon powers; they were higher being powers. And that's why she didn't smell demonic to me."

"It must have changed her on a genetic level, somehow," Willow said. "Increased powers, maybe even a stronger body."

"She was certainly strong enough afterwards to withstand the pain of the visions," Wesley said. "When they had originally started to cause her lingering and painful side-effects."

"Maybe strong enough to hold a Power?" Buffy ventured.

"No. Otherwise, the Power wouldn't have needed this mystical birth it's engineered ever since Cordy came back from Up There," Angel answered, his keen mind connecting the pieces. "I'm thinking it was so that she could survive in the higher realm of the Powers That Be, maybe even - be _forced_ to go there."

"Bingo," Whistler sagely replied. "Without a tether to this world any longer, that broad was Higher Planes-bound sooner or later. Once there, the Power's essence caused the cosmic safeguards to accept Miss Chase as a native being, someone who belonged."

"Until she was ripe for the possessing," Lindsey smirked mirthlessly.

Frustrated, Angel slammed his hands down on the table. "_Why_ _the hell_ didn't the other Powers _stop it_? They're the higher-ups in the big scheme of things, and they, what - decided to just _let_ this happen? Let the lower beings clean up _their_ mess?"

"Funny thing is, champ, they _did_ try to stop it," Lindsey said. "From what Whistler here tells me, they put in a safeguard when Nameless decided to hitch a ride with your friend back down to our plane of existence."

"Her amnesia," Wesley realized. Angel paled, even more so than normal, as he suddenly understood.

Whistler nodded. "The result of big-time mojo. A divine binding spell that was supposed to keep this Power under wraps, for the rest of the Vision Girl's life. The catch was, if cast, Cordelia could never remember her life, not even her own name. Ever. They had to move fast, though, as the renegade Power's infusing of its essence with that girl was nearly complete. Surprisingly, when the Powers approached your girl on that, she did something that none of them really expected her to do - she agreed."

* * *

A flushed Dawn swallowed nervously. "Connor…I, uh, where did you -" She paused, another offended look on her face. "Were you _eavesdropping_ just now?"

Connor paled. "What? No, I, uh…it's the senses. Super-hearing, and everything? I…couldn't help it."

He resisted the urge to flinch at her narrowed blue eyes. "Oh, so you were _unintentionally_ spying on me?"

"It wasn't like that!" Connor resentfully raised his voice, before he caught himself, quietly muttering, "I'm sorry."

After a moment, Dawn lowered her guard. "S'okay," she sighed with an apologetic tone.

Sensing they were in the crossfire of something way too personal to be any of their business, Vi stood up quickly. "Well, uh, I think I'm gonna head downstairs. See what the others are up to, maybe train a little bit. Coming, guys?" She shot the rest of the girls a poignant stare.

Amanda quickly nodded. "Oh, yeah! Uh, training…'cause that's important."

"Because we're all Potentials," Molly added helpfully. "And, maybe Anna would like to meet the rest of the group."

"Uh…sure?" Anna agreed, though still confused.

As the girls made their way to the door, a giddily smiling Vi mouthed 'good luck!' to Dawn before she quickly headed out with the rest of her friends.

Dawn shook her head with a smile at her redheaded friend's enthusiasm before she nervously eyed an equally timid Connor. _Well, here goes nothing…_

The tense silence between them was palpable.

Connor offered a shy smile that Dawn was fighting to not find so hot. "Um, can I come in?"

She oddly eyed him. "You're already in."

Embarrassed, Connor scratched his head in sheepish fashion. "Uh, yeah, I just thought it was the polite thing to say. That's what Fred taught me, anyway. Though I think it was more to keep me from entering the room, whenever she and Gunn were having sex."

Dawn nearly squeaked at the awkwardness of his statement. Seeing the shame on Connor's boyishly handsome features at his unintentional gracelessness, Dawn released a quiet giggle. "You really are new around these parts, aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Connor grimaced.

Dawn sighed, offering him a faint smile. "It's okay…kinda cute, in a weird sort of way."

His sharp blue eyes brightened at her words. "Cute?" Connor repeated, hopefully.

Realizing her words, Dawn defensively frowned. "Hey! No using that boyish charm on me, Peter Pan. I'm still mad at you at right now."

His face fell at her words. "Oh," Connor said quietly, looking like a puppy dog that just got kicked in the ribs after licking its owner before he slowly, dejectedly turned to go.

Realizing her mistake, Dawn quickly reached out and grabbed a hold of his hand, drawing Connor's confused eyes to hers. "Um, wait! Don't…don't go. This is the part where we sit down and talk," she clarified, her eyes beseeching him to stay.

Connor was growing more confused by the minute. She was mad at him and didn't want him listening in on her, yet she wanted him to stay and talk? Were all the women in this dimension so complex? It was a lot simpler hunting three-headed Sla-Neesh demons in Quor-toth than it was figuring out what human women wanted...

Still, he didn't want to make Dawn any more upset, and he had come up here to make things right with her. What other course of action did he have?

So with that in mind, he tentatively sat down across from her on the sturdy window sill.

"Um…I'm not really sure what to do next," Connor admitted, clumsily.

Squelching down the ever-growing attraction to his innocent social ineptitude, Dawn looked the young man straight in the eye. "Why didn't you tell me about Cordy?"

Connor sighed, dreading that question ever since the Beastmaster had so tactlessly announced the not-so-discreet result of their one-night-stand during the Rain of Fire. "I…I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, everything happened so fast, you know? I just met you right after your sister tried to stake my mom, then suddenly, there's Anna, then we're in the sewers fighting Cage, and we're on top of each other in the factory, and Cordy has a meat cleaver to your throat, and it was all just so - confusing."

Despite not wanting to admit it, Dawn found it hard to dispute Connor's logic. It _had _been a crazy few hours. There hadn't been any time to sit down and really get to know this cute boy that smelled like cinnamon and budding manhood.

"Well, we're alone here now. So tell me," Dawn said.

"Tell you what?" a confused Connor asked.

Dawn held his gaze. "Everything. I want to know about your life. How you grew up, what happened when you came back, Cordy, the baby, Angel, all of it. Trade me some of your secrets, and I'll give you a few of mine."

Connor had never been a trusting soul. When you've been lied to all your life, it tends to breed trust issues. And, boy, did he have a lot of issues. Yet, there was something about Dawn that Connor just could not explain. He didn't know how, yet, but he just knew…she wouldn't hurt him. Not intentionally, anyway.

So, Connor told her everything. Sparing no detail, however unpleasant.

His earliest memories of Quor-toth, Holtz's fanatical teachings as he'd raised him in that horrible place - an upbringing that Dawn suspected had involved abuse of _some_ sort - his return to Earth and the conflicted feelings he'd had towards his real father Angel, how Justine and Holtz - with his dying breath - had tricked Connor to believing Angel had killed the unhinged vampire hunter, and sealing Angel in that box and consigning him into the ocean as punishment (which drew a surprised gasp from Dawn).

The exhausting weight of lying to Fred and Gunn over the entire summer about Angel's whereabouts, the strange feeling of relief he'd felt when Angel had returned and kicked him out of the hotel, the harsh realities of wandering homeless through LA while scavenging for food in dumpsters and finding shelter in an abandoned loft, Wolfram & Hart's desire to dissect him and poke around in his body, his growing affection for an amnesia-ridden Cordelia, the rise of the Beast - which had culminated in the Rain of Fire - when he'd found intimacy and potential happiness in the fake Cordelia's arms.

His confusion over her rejection and resentment towards his human-demon heritage, the not-too-subtle hostility he'd experienced from the Angel Investigations team afterwards, how the 'baby' inside Cordelia finally gave him something real to tie him to this world, and how the Beastmaster had played on those feelings to turn him against his father and nearly kill Anna, before his mother had saved him…and finally, meeting her. Dawn.

Tears pricked Dawn's eyes as she heard his heartbreaking tale. How could anyone take so much pain? All his life, he'd been used like a weapon, not a person, not a sweet, brave boy who needed to be loved and taken care of…

"I've…I'm just so tired of it all, Dawn." Connor suddenly looked so old, so weary beyond his teenage years as he solemnly gazed at her with blue-eyed pain. "I've been fighting since I was born. All my life. Because of who I am, what I can do…who my _father_ is," he scoffed at the last part. "That's all anyone really cares about with me. That's why Holtz wanted me, why Wolfram & Hart want to stick me on a table and cut me up like a frog, why the _thing_ in Cordelia wanted me as her mate. Everyone wants a piece of the freak. Most people spend their whole lives trying to be the center of attention. Me?" His eyes spoke volumes of the Atlas-like burden he'd borne almost since birth. "Sometimes, I'd give anything just to…disappear."

Without thinking, she moved - and the next thing Dawn knew, her lips were firmly attached to his. Connor's eyes widened, caught off-guard by her sudden impulse as the kiss lingered for a few brief moments.

When Dawn pulled back, her eyes wordlessly questioned him, seeking something only he could give her. Briefly hovering so closely to her lovely face, Connor's senses took flight as their lips locked once again, tentatively at first, yet slowly building into something warmer, something tender…something real. Lips, moist, wet and warm, melded against each other, their bodies molded seamlessly, perfectly into one another.

As if they'd been designed for each other, right from the start. Like a glove for a hand. A pea for a pod. A Key to a lock…

Sometime between here and eternity, Dawn broke off their kiss, panting breathlessly as her face was still only a sliver away from an equally breathless Connor, a dazed expression on his face.

Despite her high IQ and strong grip of vocabulary, Dawn couldn't find any other word to describe the racing of her heart, the heat radiating from under her skin, the gentle numbness in her lips other than a quiet, "Wow."

Connor flashed a rare, yet beautiful smile. "Damn right, wow," he said, a hint of boyish mischief in his voice.

Dawn couldn't help but to smile back at him, but then her eyes grew serious again. "Connor…I have to know. Are you in love with Cordelia?"

She'd caught him off-guard once again. "What?"

"Are you?" Dawn searched his face, uncertainty starting to build in her slender body. "Look, I'm not asking how you felt when you slept with her - the evil, fake her, whatever. How do you feel about Cordelia _right now_?"

After giving it some thought, Connor finally spoke. "I don't know. From what I've learned, this thing inside of her, it's been making Cordelia do all the things she's done ever since she…came back. The _real _Cordelia, from before - she was kind to me, but I didn't love her. At least, I don't think I did. As for the baby…if that's what it really is…" Connor paused, trying to give voice to the conflict inside his head. "All I know is, the realest thing I've felt since I've been here, the only thing that even feels like it makes any kind of sense…is the last few hours I've been with you."

Dawn instantly wanted to kiss him again so badly…

"Yeah," she sighed instead. "But Connor, all this…Cordelia, the baby…that changes things a little."

"Dawn," he began to protest, only to have Dawn raise her hand and stop him.

"It's not that I don't want to," Dawn said softly, "because I do. But…maybe we should take it slow. See how everything plays out?"

Hurt and rejection flashed though the young man's eyes. "You don't want to be with me," he said, evenly.

"No, Connor, I do!" Dawn quickly assured him. "I…I really like you. A lot. But you were right. This is all happening really fast. And there's a lot going on around here. Apocalypse, end of the world stuff -"

"Yeah, okay, I get it," Connor replied brusquely, abruptly standing up.

Alarmed, Dawn gaped at him. "_W-what_? Get what?"

"You found out how much baggage I've got, and now, you want to turn tail and run," Connor replied coldly, though his voice was low and pained with rejection. "It's okay, Dawn, I don't blame you for it."

Dawn's eyes widened in surprise, forcing her to stand as she quickly scrambled to avoid this rapidly arriving train wreck. "No, Connor, you don't understand -"

"Oh, I understand alright," the Destroyer cut her off, his eyes flickering with anger and pain. "I thought you were different, Dawn. I thought you'd understand. But you're just like everyone else…" Both Cage's and the Beastmaster's cruel words echoed clearly in his mind. "You don't want to be anywhere near the freak show."

"Connor…" Dawn implored him, desperately reaching for his hand. But he brushed her off, whirling suddenly as he headed for the doors.

"I'm going out," the male teen ground out, his eyes misting as he left the room.

"_Connor_!" Dawn cried out his name, but to no avail. She watched him leave in swift fashion. Which left the pretty, blue-eyed and trembling brunette more confused and hurt than ever.

* * *

Angel drew back, completely thrown by Whistler's statement. Cordy had been willing to give up everything she ever knew? All her memories of her friends, her mission, her life, who she was?

It was almost too much to take in. He'd always known that Cordy was loyal, but to give up so much…

Wesley, Willow, Darla and Giles were also startled by the news.

Taken aback, Buffy stammered, "W-wait. Cordy agreed to getting her mind wiped? _Why_?"

Whistler gave a rueful smile. "Wasn't easy for her, from what I'm told. But…the princess said she would rather lose the memories of her own life than destroy the lives of the people she loved. She'd come a long way from being Daddy's Little Girl, that one…so, the spell was cast. Before she came back, it was done." He turned to Angel. "Everything was as good as it could get, until _you_ and your crew woke up the passengers with Lorny-tune's spell - the one designed to get someone's memories back?"

"Something which, by the way, set the wheels of Armageddon rolling in motion," Lindsey shook his head with a grimace.

Angel shut his eyes as a sharp pang of sorrow rose in him. After realizing just what Cordelia, his seer, his best friend, had been willing to sacrifice to protect her friends…and the world…well, it wasn't too different from Buffy's deaths to avert two apocalypses. _What have I done? Dear God, what I have done?_

Instinctively, Buffy laid her tiny hand on Angel's shoulder in a comforting gesture. She, of all people, could understand how the well-meaning intentions of friends could sometimes backfire. Like when they brought you back from the dead, in your own coffin, thinking you were in Hell - when you were really at peace in Heaven.

"Hey," Buffy whispered to him, drawing the attention of the morose vampire. "Not your fault. Okay? You didn't know. It's not your fault -"

"_Isn't_ it?" Angel demanded, a familiar look of pain and guilt in his dark, soulful eyes. "I was so scared of losing the old Cordelia forever that I let Lorne do that damn spell. If I'd just let it go, simply tried to build a new life with her as she was…but instead, I opened the door for that…_thing_…to slaughter thousands of people, and taint Cordy's hands with their blood!"

"Angel, there was _no way_ you could have known this would happen," Buffy insisted softly, her blue-green eyes mixed with both sympathy and resolve. "You were just trying to help her. It's what you do. You're Angel. You help."

Before he could offer her a smile, Lindsey mockingly agreed, "Oh, sure. He helped, alright. Angel helped put in motion the events culminating in the very act that's going to help the First Evil finally tip the scales of power in its favor, and destroy all life as we know it."

Fully alert, Buffy's wide eyes shot towards Lindsey's. "_What_?"

Whistler sighed, knowing that here was where things got…complicated. "This nameless Power hasn't got clue-one about it, but…the other Powers figured out that it was being played, all along. By the First."

"'Played' _how_?" Buffy demanded, her arms folded impatiently across her chest.

Lindsey cut in at this point. "This Power was making some big-time moves, but meanwhile, the First Evil was making moves of its own. From eons back. It sent in a kind of…parasite, to infiltrate the Higher Planes."

Giles and Wesley traded surprised - yet comprehending - stares. "The other being in Cordelia," Giles uttered.

Willow frowned. "What kind of parasite is this, uh, Beastmaster, exactly?"

"Think of it as a…well, a fallen angel, of sorts. A really old, and really strong one," was Whistler's reply. "One of only two, but they were older than most worlds, something that can't even be classified. Still - they were native to the Higher Planes, unlike the First. Neither of them could be hurt by the cosmic energy there. But, eventually, they got tired of floating above all life without actually living, they yearned to experience the mortal realm for themselves."

"The First knew about that, and played on that," Lindsey took over. "Made a deal with them, a couple eons ago - to start manipulating this Power, whisper in its ear, urge it to change the world instead of just letting things play out. Start setting the stage for the First's big corporeal debut on Earth…in exchange, they could keep Cordelia's body, the First would get the Power's new flesh-y threads, everybody wins - except the humans and all of existence, of course."

This didn't make sense to Angel. How could something as dominant as one of the Powers That Be not realize it was being _manipulated_? "Doesn't this Power realize that?"

Lindsey shrugged. "Doubt it. Probably too blind on ambition and lust for power to stop now, anyhow."

"Something _you're_ familiar with, I'm sure," Wesley coldly sniped, earning a glare from Lindsey.

"Boys, play nice," Buffy bitingly warned, before returning her attention to Whistler. "So, how'd the other Powers figure it out?"

"Near the end, just before the Vision Girl returned to Earth, one of the parasites got caught trying to slip out of the Higher Planes. The Powers forced it to talk, got the whole scoop on what the renegade Power was trying to do…as well as the First."

"What happened to this other parasite? The one not squatting in Cordy's body?" asked Angel.

The balance demon merely shrugged. "Imprisoned for all eternity, in a cube of hellfire. Was either that or they would've killed it. Them's the breaks when you piss off the big guys. They started sending me the messages later, along with their instructions, and - voila! - here we all are."

Buffy felt a chill run up her spine, a sickening sense of understanding dawning on her. And as she looked up into the now-shocked brown orbs of Angel, she could see that he had put it together, as well.

This was it. Everything that had happened, from months, years and even eons back, was all connected to this…the Big Bad's - maybe the Biggest Bad's - grand scheme.

"The First wants a body." The blonde Slayer swallowed hard. "That's its main goal. It always _was_. The rest was just the pre-show."

"Or insurance…" Angel suggested.

Realization lit up the eyes of Willow, Giles, Wesley and Darla as they began to place the pieces together.

"Of course!" Giles exclaimed, as he slammed his hand on the table in self-frustration. Why hadn't he seen this before? "Destroying the Council - the Watchers and their methods and mystical means of finding a Slayer - and e-eradicating the Slayer line by killing off the Potentials along with Buffy and Faith, would have eliminated all possibility of a Chosen One rising up and threatening its plans…"

"And stealing Angel's soul would have taken the Champion of the Powers That Be out of play, removing another powerful enemy from its path…" Wesley realized as he and Angel swapped stares, reliving those nightmarish days that Angelus had been on the loose during the Permanent Midnight.

"Sending in a giant rock-covered juggernaut to slaughter the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart took out its number one competition for the apocalypse…" Lindsey added.

Willow got it now. "While raising the über-vamps through the Seal of Danzalthar and organizing the Bringers would have given it an army to command…"

"…meanwhile, the Beastmaster finally births one fresh, straight-out-of-the-oven vessel - something strong enough to hold a Power That Was, despite what that would do to Cordelia - as the First's new birthday suit," Darla murmured.

Whistler brought it full circle. "Thereby allowing Evil Incarnate to walk among men, backed by a vast army of darkness, powerful enough to rule this world…"

Angel grimly finished with, "Or destroy it."

At that, Buffy felt the Slayer within snap to attention. "Unless we stop it first." She looked at Whistler. "If we do this spell successfully, will it get rid of the vessel? The…baby?"

"Only if you destroy the spirit of the Power while you're there," Whistler replied.

"'There' where?" Buffy demanded. She hated cryptic-speak.

"Inside Cordelia's mind," Wesley explained. "The counter-spell we found in the Bisylline Codex creates a link - part mystical, part telepathic - that can connect the infiltrators - two people are required - to the mind and body of a possessed person, allowing the opportunity to expel the invading entity from the one possessed. If we're going up against a fallen Power, it would be best to choose someone with great power or knowledge of the mystical variety."

At this, Buffy's ears perked up. "Two people with power, huh?" She turned to Angel. "Well, I guess that I'm heading along for the Journey to the Center of Cordelia. You in, Angel?"

The vampire gave a subtle nod, his voice grim but determined. "I'm game."

Wesley and Giles exchanged a not-so-secretive look of apprehension before Giles turned to Angel. "Actually, Angel, I'm afraid you can't do it."

That statement surprised both Buffy and Angel, the latter demanding angrily, "Why the hell not?"

"The counter-spell is very specific," Wesley clarified. "Only a living human being, someone with a beating heart, and a body that's alive and breathing, can partake in the ritual."

"And being a vampire, that pretty much nixes you on that," Willow surmised, giving Angel an apologetic glance.

Angel huffed, folding his arms in displeasure. "That's kind of…discriminatory."

Buffy stifled a smile at his unwitting joke before looking around at the others. "Well, I still need a traveling partner. Will?"

"No can do," Willow sighed. "I'm Conduit Girl, remember? Gotta channel your life force through me to maintain the spell."

A worried Buffy now cautiously eyed the redhead. "You sure you're up for this?"

Despite her own misgivings, Willow gave a steady nod. "Cordy needs us. I'm in."

"I should go," Wesley stepped forward, surprising Buffy. "I'm quite adept at spell-casting, and I can handle myself in a fight."

"Singing my song," Lindsey drawled before stepping forward himself. "I've cast a few spells in my day, too."

The former Watcher snorted distastefully. "How convenient. Wolfram & Hart's formerly most vaunted prospect volunteering to be alone with the Slayer as she faces off against two incredibly powerful enemies, in a landscape where she needs to trust someone the most."

"Better than sending _you_," Lindsey shot back. "From what I've heard of your track record, you'd just screw it all up - like you did with the little 'Oopsie!' of getting Angel and Darla's kid kidnapped by a lunatic into Quor-toth, after you were tricked by a fake prophecy. Nice work there, by the way. Definitely can't understand why the Watchers Council fired your stupid ass."

Angered by the mention of his greatest failure, Wesley edged closer to the smirking ex-lawyer until they were barely a foot apart. "Because you did _so_ much better when you let Drusilla to turn Darla, a helpless dying woman, back into a soulless demon, setting these events in motion _long_ before that happened. Darla couldn't love you with a soul - so did you think that by turning her back into a vampire, that she'd want to take you to dinner instead of make _you_ the dinner?"

Wes cruelly smirked. "I guess some people really will do anything for a date."

For Lindsey, it was like having salt rubbed in an old, unclosed wound. A dark scowl etched on his face as he sized up the Brit. "I guess you'd know that from experience, huh, Head Boy? By the way, when's the last time you shaved, Christmas? You look like a damn hobo."

"Guys…" Whistler groaned in dismay.

"Ironic. You, giving _me_ grooming tips," Wesley coolly replied. "I guess that explains the ever-manly shoulder length hair you have. Or did you finally get in touch with your inner woman during your bout of soul-searching?"

Darla shoved her small, slender body between the two soon-to-be combatants, pushing them both apart. "_That's enough_! You're both grown men, so, for God's sake, _start acting like it_! Besides, it's a moot point. Neither one of you are going in with Buffy." She turned to the blond Slayer. "Because _I'm_ the one who's going with her."

Her unexpected declaration shocked the entire room.

Stunned, Angel gaped at Darla. "What?"

Buffy was floored. "_You_?"

"Me," Darla replied. "I may not be a vampire anymore, but I still remember a few decent moves to get myself out of a jam. Besides, this new body of mine has some level of magical power, thanks to the Beastmaster making me corporeal. That could come in useful."

Giles was visibly apprehensive. "Darla, your volunteering i-is admirable, but I'm afraid I must recommend against it. Despite these supposed abilities of yours, you lack your former strength and any experience handling such magic."

"Then who else _is_ there?" Darla protested. "Willow's the only one strong enough to be the conduit, so she can't enter. Spike and Angel are vampires, so that rules them out. The other Slayer, Faith, what can she offer that Buffy can't? And the rest of you…look. I don't know why, exactly, but I know that it's me that has to go with Buffy."

"No. No way. It's too risky," Lindsey shook his head adamantly.

"Darla, think about this," Wesley argued. "We have no idea what kinds of safeguards are in place once you connect to Cordelia's mind. There are too many -"

"I don't care," Darla sharply replied. "I want in."

A beat. Then Buffy spoke one word. "No."

"What? Why?" a confused Darla sputtered.

"I'm sorry, Darla, but I still don't know if I trust you," Buffy said, her tone frank. "There's a lot at risk here, and -"

"Okay, listen to me!" Darla cut her off, her angelic features twisting in anger. "Look, I get it - I tried to kill you and everyone you love. There's no way for me to ever make that right. And I'm sorry. But understand this - that thing inside your friend manipulated _my_ _son_ and tried to make him an accessory to murder. There's no way in hell that I'm letting that slide. I want that thing dead and gone and unable to hurt Connor again. Now, are you going to play ball, or are we going to have a problem? You might be a Slayer, but I'm a mother out to protect her only son. So I'd say the odds aren't that great for _you_."

For a moment, Buffy felt her warrior's instincts flare at Darla's ultimatum. Then, she realized that Darla was right. She had just as much at stake here as Buffy did, maybe more. Who was she to stand in the way of a mother's right to avenge her son's honor?

Reluctantly, Buffy sighed. "Fine. Whatever. Just remember what I told you earlier." She added that last part with a not-so-veiled threat.

"Very well," Darla responded, before finishing with a grateful, "Thank you."

"Humph," was Buffy's indignant response.

"That's, that's great, and all," Willow said. "But why the Orb of Makai? How does that help?"

"It'll protect Buffy and Darla from the bad guy's enchantment magic," replied Whistler. "This Power's signature ability happens to be mind control. Powerful stuff. Her thrall can strip any humans and benevolent demons of their free will, make their only desire solely to do its bidding."

"Mind control?" Angel mused. "Huh. That's a first."

"Nice change of pace," Buffy noted.

"The orb will keep Buffy's and Darla's minds protected from that, allowing them to see the Power for what it really is," Whistler said.

The Slayer nodded. "Okay, so that takes care of the mind-control whammy. But what about the Power? Something tells me I'm going to need a little more bang for my buck for that one."

"That's easy," Lindsey said. "You need its name. Thing is, we don't have it. But Cordelia does. The real one, that is. It's locked deep in her subconscious - the only way to tie the Power to the mortal plane. Speaking its name should unravel the Power's abilities completely, and hopefully destroy it. Once you wake Cordelia's subconscious up, she should be able to divulge the name. Hell, it might even be the first thing that comes out of her mouth."

Buffy's blue-green eyes scrutinized him. "You don't have any idea if that's actually the case, do you?"

Lindsey held her gaze, bravely…then he folded. "No, actually, but it's an educated guess. Once the name is revealed, a portal should provide your way out of the mental constructs of her mind. Get in, wake up Cordelia, grab her and get out. If you don't leave before the portal closes, your minds will be lost inside Cordelia's. Permanently."

Angel suddenly grew tense. "Wait…if their minds are stuck inside before they can get out, will it kill them?"

Whistler gave the vampire a grim nod. "Sorry, but yeah. Body can't survive without the mind."

_It never gets easier, does it_? Buffy groaned internally. "No problem. Get in, grab Cordy, get out. Got it."

"Then we're almost set," Whistler said. "Now if you two lovely ladies will step this way and put your hands on the orb, we have lovely parting gifts for you as you make your trip down scenic Cordelia Chase Lane."

Rolling their eyes at the balance demon's corny lines, Buffy and Darla stepped forward and placed their hands on the blue crystal orb. Whistler then grabbed a small scroll from the black duffel bag and recited an ancient Sumerian chant with gusto:

"_Makai, Tamalu Emuq. Makai, Tabalu Kanu Ina Sarratum. __Damiq Ina Inu. Immaru Ina Etutu. __Makai, Peta Babkama."_

(Translation from Sumerian: Makai, Release your Power. Makai, Remove Truth from Falsehood. Good from Evil. Light from Darkness. Makai, Open Your Gate for Me.)

And…nothing.

Buffy stared impatiently at the very inanimate orb. "Don't tell me this ancient thingamabob is _broken_? 'Cause if it is, then that was pretty damn usele -"

Suddenly, the orb began to glow with a light-bluish hue. The next moment, a powerful gust of wind emerged from nowhere, howling around the room, throwing loose pages of ancient texts around as if they were autumn leaves. It was then that glowing blue glyphs of Sumerian text rapidly crawled across both women's skins.

Buffy gasped as she felt the primeval magic course through the already-powerful Slayer blood in her veins. Darla shivered as she felt a rush of ancient power tingling her nerve endings. She hadn't felt power like this since she was a vampire.

"_Is it supposed to do that_?" Willow shouted to Whistler over the howling wind.

Whistler shrugged. "_Can't say, Red. Never seen it work before_!" he hollered back.

After a few more minutes of howling gusts, the winds died down and the orb faded back to its original dark blue color. Both women staggered back slightly, dazed by the spell's effects.

"_Wowzy_!" Buffy breathed out, though nearly breathless. "I'll buy _that_ for a dollar."

"No kidding," Darla panted alongside her. "That was…a rush."

Concerned, Wesley attempted to go to her side. But Lindsey was a half-second faster and reached her first, his hands steadying her arms. The sight of them so close together made Wesley's five o'clock-shadowed jaw clench in envy.

"Are you all right?" Lindsey asked, an unnervingly gentle tenor, Darla noted, in his smooth Midwest twang.

Shaking the feeling off, Darla brusquely batted his hands away. "I'm fine. And keep your damn hands off of me," she groused, looking away before she could catch the flicker of hurt in those stunning baby blue eyes of his.

"Okay, so are we all set to go?" Buffy asked.

"Not yet," Whistler said. "The spell should be in full effect in about an hour. Meanwhile, we have to wait. Going in before the mojo kicks in will put you both at risk of falling under the renegade Power's thrall."

"So, what, we just sit around and make s'mores for the next hour?" the impatient Slayer griped.

"S'mores, smoothies - whatever, blondie," Whistler quipped, smirking. "Once a full hour's passed, we can all meet back in the lobby to handle the Exorcism of Cordelia Chase. I'll trade some more notes with the English guys here, in the meantime."

Buffy groaned. "Well, how the hell am I supposed to fill up an hour?"

As if on cue, Angel turned to her. "Buffy, we need to talk."

Cringing slightly at the not-too-friendly tone in Angel's quiet, yet hardened voice, Buffy sighed. "Oh. Sure. _That_ works."

Looking to Giles, wordlessly gesturing if she should stay, her Watcher shook his head. "We can handle things from here. But feel free to come in, i-if you wish."

Willow's eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, uh…do you guys need me for anything else? 'Cause if not, I think I'll go and get some stuff from my room, memorize the ritual…"

"Check on Oz?" Buffy smirked, knowingly. Off the redhead's embarrassed blush, Buffy grinned. She hadn't seen Willow with that kind of excited gleam in her eyes since…well, since Oz left. And before Tara's death, of course. "It's okay, Will. Go, patch up - er, catch up with him."

Willow shook her head at Buffy's little Freudian slip. "R-right. I-if anybody needs me, I'll be upstairs, patching up - uh, catching up with him!" With that, Willow quickly exited the room.

"Need me for anything else?" Angel asked.

"I don't believe so," Wesley replied. "We'll call you if we need you."

"Good," he replied, before turning intense brown eyes towards the blonde Slayer. "I'll be in my room," was his not-too-cryptic way of telling Buffy where to meet for one of their infamous heart-to-unbeating-heart talks before he whirled and swiftly exited the study.

A weary Buffy groaned. "Just what I wanted for early Christmas, Santa. My very own lump of jealous vampire crap," she muttered before she left the room.

Whistler gave a dry chuckle. "Gotta love the intensity with those two."

"Indeed," Giles wryly retorted. "We'll be setting up outside. Wesley, Darla, if you care to assist, perhaps things can go faster."

"Right," Wesley agreed, turning to Darla. "Darla, could we speak for a moment?"

"Sure you can, Wes ol' boy," Lindsey cut in. "After me."

"After you what? Leave, I hope?" Wesley icily retorted.

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Wouldn't want anyone crashing your chance to be a big hero stud," Lindsey replied, before looking at the smaller Darla. "Darla, if I could just have a minute with you -"

"You and I have _nothing_ to talk about, Lindsey," Darla cut him off, harshly.

"It'll only be a minute, Darla," Lindsey spoke softly, his tone changed from roaring confidence to quiet, earnest uncertainty. "Please."

Despite her anger with him, there was something in his voice, something in his eyes, that gave enough of a tug at Darla's heart…

"I believe she told you 'no', McDonald," Wesley coldly cut in. "So why don't you take the hint, and stop wasting our -"

"Fine," Darla rolled her eyes, surprising both men. "But that's all you get, Lindsey. _One. Minute_."

Surprised, Lindsey gave her a beaming smile, although the unfriendly glare in her haunted blue-green eyes forced him to dim it.

"Darla," Wesley tried. "If you're not comfortable -"

She shook her head. "It's alright, Wesley," she assured him with a soft gesture of her hand. "It'll only be a minute."

The smug look on Lindsey's face was almost enough to drive Wesley to whip out his collapsible sword and cut the ex-lawyer's lips right off his face.

Giles must have sensed it, too. "Wesley, your help with this spell could prove invaluable to helping Cordelia."

The words had their desired effect. Without turning those cold blue eyes from Lindsey, he spoke to Darla. "If you need anything, Darla, we'll be right outside," Wesley said, although he softly, yet poignantly emphasized the 'right outside' part.

"I'll keep that in mind," Darla nodded, gratefully.

After a brief staring match between the two men, Wesley turned and left, Giles narrowing his eyes at Lindsey as he left, leaving only Whistler as the last third wheel.

"Just don't be long, McDonald," Whistler said. "Your love life takes lower priority than the end of the world, after all."

"I got that. Now, git, would ya? You're wasting time," Lindsey dismissively waved him off.

Not to be outdone, Whistler left with one parting shot before closing the door and leaving the wary ex-vampire and the former Wolfram & Hart Junior Partner alone to talk. "Git? What is this, 'The Beverly Hillbillies' meets 'Law & Order?'"

* * *

**San Bruno ****suburbs - San Francisco, CA**

**One hour ago**

* * *

Eight-year-old Tommy LeCroix had never been over to a sleepover before. His parents were always too busy worrying and hassling him about school to let him do that.

So, naturally, Tommy was psyched when they'd finally granted him permission to sleep over at his best friend Kyle Andrews's house. Kyle had a cool older brother and a really pretty sister he liked. And his parents were super-cool too.

They were already hanging out in Kyle's bedroom playing on a foosball table Kyle had set up in his room, hungrily anticipating the extra large pepperoni and mushroom pizza that was due to arrive at any minute.

But then, the screams started.

Tommy could hear Kyle's mom screaming in terror, then her dad shouting something, and then a loud crash, furniture knocked over, more screams, and then…an eerie silence.

Followed by the lights going out.

Bravely, Kyle told Tommy to stay in the bedroom, while he went to check out the noises. He promised he would be back in a few minutes. The problem, though? That was more than half an hour ago.

Tommy was scared. Too scared to remember the cell phone his mom had given him in case of emergencies that he had in his backpack. Too scared to try checking the phone lines.

He just knew he had to get out of here. Check on Kyle, and then go get help. Slowly, he crept out of the bedroom, the floorboards softly creaking under his tiny weight.

"Kyle?" he called in a hushed, yet audible whisper.

Slowly he made his way down the stairs to the main door, which was left oddly open to the quiet suburban neighborhood.

He barely had time to question why Tommy's parents would leave the door open like that before he saw something just at the base of the entrance to the other room.

It looked like…a hand. A really bloody hand. A hand wearing Mrs. Andrews's engagement ring.

"H-hello?" Tommy worriedly called. "M-Mrs. Andrews?"

Slowly he crept closer to the bottom of the stairs, where his innocent brown eyes gaped in shock at what he found.

Mrs. Andrews, lying lifelessly on the floor, a ring of blood encircling her neck…from where two small, pinhole-shaped holes were.

Her husband lay a few feet from her, his body strewn against a crushed bookshelf, his neck laying at an unnaturally obtuse angle. He could see Kyle's sister laying in the kitchen, her pretty blue eyes wide open, yet completely still. Her big brother was lying face down next to her, a sickening halo of crimson blood around his head.

Trembling, Tommy took several steps back, his tiny red lips quivering in fear, his young mind unable to comprehend the horror that he was seeing…

"Are you lost?" came an odd, female voice from the darkness.

Tommy gasped as he turned around, where he found a dark-haired woman - a strange, pretty and terrifying one - clad in a black dress peering at him in dull fascination through glazed blue eyes.

And cradled in her arms…the bloodied, lifeless body of Kyle.

"K-Kyle?" the boy squeaked out, nearly scared to death.

Seemingly ignoring the fear on the young boy's face, the strange woman kept speaking, her tone odd, and foreign and strangely lilting, while at the same time, utterly petrifying. "Look at you…shaking…terrified…all alone…lost…lost little lamb."

She stepped closer, as he stepped back, watching in horror as she gently rocked Kyle's dead body.

"Baby lamb's gone to sleep," she spoke confidingly to the terrified Tommy, while gently brushing a blood-caked hand through Kyle's blonde hair, leaving a sickening trail of rouge on his now red-soiled blond locks. "But his fleece is no longer white as snow…the other lambs became jealous of his fleece and tore him to itty-bitty pieces, they did…and then he flew away on pixie's wings…_p__sst! Psst!" _

"W-what are you talking about?" Tommy stammered at the obviously crazy woman talking in strange tongues.

Her shrill laugh nearly froze him where he stood. "Aww, don't be afraid, little lamb. I've been watching you…from afar. For days, now," her voice went soft, almost tender as she spoke to the bewildered black-haired boy. "I followed you to school one day…watched you laugh…and play… though it was against the rules. Little lamb may have tried to tune me out, but I always lingered near."

With sudden reckless abandon, the vampiress flung Kyle's corpse aside, sending him crashing hard into the other side of the room, where he toppled over and lay still.

In a blur of speed, she was suddenly in front of the boy, whose fear suddenly rooted him in place, tears streaming down his face as the odd woman continued to rhyme with manic glee.

"_So I waited patiently about_! Until this night…where I appear," she flashed a brilliantly dazzling smile, an odd juxtaposition to the bloody hands she held curled like claws in front of him.

Somehow, Tommy forced his mouth to work. "Y-you…you killed them. Why?"

Slowly turning to see the carnage behind her, the woman turned back to the child, and simply…shrugged. "I was hungry."

"Hungry?" came Tommy's disbelieving squeak.

"Yes. Hungry," she repeated as she crouched down. "Don't be frightened, my lamb. I'm doing you a favor. The world is breaking apart. The moon told me. Told me the world is hungry. IT is hungry…wants to open its jaws. Beneath us. Beneath me. Beneath _you_."

She barked like an angry dog, making the boy flinch. "It's ready to devour us all. It'll be a beautiful, brilliant slaughter." Her dreamy smile faded, her next words making his blood run cold.

"I just wish you were going to be around to see it, little lamb."

"Me, too," came a child's voice.

Both turned to see Kyle, clean, spotless, and smiling. But it was a mirthless smile. A cold, hollow grin sported on the boy's pseudo-happy face.

The woman regarded him oddly. "I killed you."

'Kyle' smirked. "No, you killed _him_. Me? I don't die that easily, sweet Drusilla."

The female vampire's eyes narrowed. "You…you're not him, are you?" She shook her head. "No. You're Him. _It_."

"Who am I?" 'Kyle' asked expectantly.

As she drew closer, Drusilla's glazed, haunted blue orbs peered at the 'boy' standing across from her. "I sense…power. Ancient. Primal." She giggled softly, madly. "And gristle and blood and entrails floating around you in a beautiful halo. Like bees. _Bzzzt_!"

"So, who am I?" 'Kyle' repeated, that odd smirk on his face.

Drusilla looked to the ceiling, as if asking the stars only she could see a question. "Evil. The strongest. The worst." She grinned. "The First."

"Yes," he said.

"Kyle?" Tommy cried out, hope filling his little heart…which was dashed at the predatory gleam in the eyes of his 'friend'.

"Ah, no, Kyle's dead, kid. But if you leave a message, he'll return your call after the scream," smirked the thing wearing his best friend's face before he turned his attention back to the insane vampiress. "I have to say - I do enjoy your work. Killing that pizza delivery boy moments before they open the door and posing as a delivery girl to get an invite inside? Brilliant."

Dru smirked at the thought of the tall, yet lanky boy she'd left discarded in the bushes of the front lawn, his stomach ripped out, blood pouring from his throat. "He thought I was pretty…that I was attracted to him. And I was," she whispered to 'Kyle' in a joking tone. "He had such pretty entrails."

The First/Kyle chuckled. "I _knew _I liked you for a reason. You know what's coming, don't you?"

"Fire. Pain, destruction…sweet, beautiful death," Drusilla smiled in a sinister fashion.

"Yes," 'Kyle' nodded, almost with a purr. "But it cannot be done alone. I have…enemies who would see me fail."

Drusilla's eyes scrutinized him, and yet…seemed to look past the First Evil. Into somewhere else, a place only she could see. "The _Slayer_," Dru spat distastefully, and paused. "And…my Daddy, no, the Angel-beast…and Grandmummy…and my…" Her fists clenched as anger overtook her. "And _my Spike_!"

"Annoying pests, they are," sighed 'Kyle'. "They're causing some…complications that will have to be dealt with."

Drusilla suddenly began shaking, trembling as if she was seeing something too horrific for words.

"The Angel-beast and the wretched Slayer…they're rebonding, rekindling…and…a brother? I'm a _sister_?...and Grandmother's frail, and all human again. Her heart's filled with such disgusting good intentions…and my Spike…he…he burns." She moaned as if she was in great pain. "He's all aflame, like Daddy is…I can feel him glowing, embers sparkling in his chest, it warms him…..mmmngh, his skin is burning with it, _he's on fire_! _He's on fiiirre_!"

A mourning, terrible wail escaped Drusilla's lips, as her hands clawing at her dark-haired locks. She flew into a terrible rage as she smashed the nearby coffee table to pieces, throwing vases, glasses, books and anything she could find.

At that moment, Tommy finally let instinct take over and he fled, bolting to the already-open back door of the kitchen and running as fast as his small limbs could carry him.

After a few moments of raging, Dru sunk to her knees, rubbing her arms comfortingly. "I'm not pleased," she quietly told Kyle/The First.

"Neither am I," it told her. "But I'm working on something to take care of that. I could use someone with your talents, your…unique…gifts. If you want your 'family' back, then the Slayer can't be allowed to live. Help me rip her heart out of her chest, along with those in her line and all her little friends, and in turn - I'll have Spike groveling at your feet in no time, begging you for forgiveness. I may even give you Angelus and Darla to do with as you please. You can have the Whirlwind back, Drusilla. You can have your _family _again."

Her eyes filled with hope. "You really can do that?" she asked in her Cockney accent.

"Once my plan comes to fruition…there's nothing that I won't be able to do," the boy smiled coldly. "Would you like to play my little game?"

Dru stared at the ghost of the boy for a moment, mulling, considering…then laughing. "I like games."

The First/Kyle smiled. "I thought you might." It looked past the open kitchen door. "It looks like your meal has gotten away."

The psychic demoness clucked her tongue. "Not to worry. Sooner or later, I catch up with all my lambs." Her thoughts drifted to Spike. "No matter how far they've strayed."

Her hauntingly beautiful features shifted to reveal her true, ridged face - the face of a vampire.

In no hurry, Drusilla slowly stalked towards the door, her prey's scent still lingering in her nostrils, all the while gently humming an eerie lullaby.

"Run…and catch…run…and catch…the lamb is caught in the blackberry patch..."

Kyle/the First stood amidst the bloodbath Drusilla had created tonight, watching in fascination as the deadly predator strode into the night in search of her meal. A creature like that, with her powers, her intuition, her strength, would cause the Slayer and Champion's friends, especially that little bastard Spike, all kinds of problems.

"Such a sweet girl," the First smiled using its false face.

And it wasn't done yet. There were still other beings to contact, other players to put on this board. But once it had placed all of its pieces into play, the First Evil was sure that it would be in place for a final checkmate. The Slayer and Angelus may think they had the upper hand now, but in reality…things were going exactly as planned.

And the First Evil couldn't be happier.

* * *

TBC…

* * *

Next: After four years, Willow & Oz are reunited at last. How has Oz changed? And what will Kennedy do when she finds out he's back?

Spike and Faith. More bonding, less filling.

Darla and Lindsey finally have it out. Will Darla forgive and forget? Can Lindsey really be trusted?

Darla and Buffy enter Cordelia's mind. What kinds of pitfalls await there? Can they save her? And can they defeat this mysterious Power and parasite? Or have they just sealed their fates?

And, the moment you've all been waiting for - Buffy. Angel. THE TALK. Need I say more?

* * *

Well, a buh-be-buh-be-buh-be, that's all for now, folks! Come on. Review. You know you want to ;)…(No, seriously, please read and review!)

Jean-theGuardian


	19. Part 17 Head Trippin' Part 1

I've come to one conclusion - landlords suck. Particularly when they are absent-minded douchebags that screw you out of a lot of money and have the balls to ask you to keep paying on time. But whatever, enough about my rantings...

Happy New Year, everybody! Thanks to RebeccaAnne, Megagalvatron12, Na'ir al Saif, BA-All the Way, wingster55, teamtiva, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, philly cheese dude, Lily Emerald, my girl Imzadi, sugarless5, EmeraldWings90, MacKenzie Creations, jnd25, ashes at midnight, Dark Vizard447 and David Fishwick and the many who contacted me via private message and e-mail. You are all my inspiration!

This chapter was originally supposed to be much longer, but I realized that I might lose some people if it was too long ( I was going on 60 pages). So, I'm breaking this chapter up into two parts, with part two coming later.

How much later? Not sure, but I'll try to make it fast. I got a new job and get to go back home next week, so things are going to be a little hectic. But worry not! I will finish this story, someway, somehow. As always, any suggestions or comments are more than welcome.

Now, sit back and enjoy the latest chapter of…

* * *

Bring Me to Life - a Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel Crossover Event

Part 17

Head Trippin'- Part I

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Lobby**

**5 minutes ago**

**

* * *

**

"Tibet? _Really_?" Xander blurted, surprised.

Oz nodded. "For nearly two years."

"Wow…Tibet," Anya mused. "Haven't been there since the 18th century. It was 1791, in fact, during the The Nepalese Invasion, which is a funny story, because it just so happened that a wish I made to a peasant girl actually turned the tide of the…" Off the startled looks everyone gave her, Anya laughed nervously. "Um, that's not important right now. So, Oz! Tibetan cuisine still as weird as I remember it to be?"

"Pretty good, actually," Oz replied. "Though I still don't get the sheep's tail thing…"

The Dingoes' axe-man was regaling the others in the hallway with the tales of some of his more memorable escapades during the last three years - a journey that took him all over the world in his quest to find the answer to the question of the raging animal within.

"Must've put some heavy mileage on that thing," Gunn mused, referring to Oz's van.

Oz gave a knowing smile to the tall vampire hunter, who was not aware of all the uncanny capabilities of Oz's van. "Oh, she can handle alright."

Fred stared in wonder at the lycanthrope after hearing his stories. "Wow. That sounds kind of exotic. Traveling the whole world in search of a cure, fighting vampires, demons and werewolf hunters while righting wrongs along the way…."

"It's like _An American Werewolf in London_ meets _Kung Fu_ meets _Outbreak_," Andrew enthusiastically added, "which I personally think was one of Kevin Spacey's finer performances, even though everyone still goes off about _American Beauty_, but — "

"Andrew. You dropped your life, go get a new one," an already annoyed Xander snapped at the comic book nerd, before turning back to Oz. "So, did you find what you were looking for? Are you, y'know…cured?"

Oz sheepishly rubbed his head. "Well…no and yes."

That threw the construction foreman for a loop. "W-wait a second. No and yes? Oz, it's not a trick question here. Either, yes, you're not going to turn into berserk furry nasty three nights out of the month, or, no, we might want to keep those nights open. Which is it?"

All the while they were talking, Spike's keen blue eyes never left the werewolf. Oh, he could smell the wolf in him, alright. The musky, wet canine-like odor underneath the surface of the boy's skin had been assaulting his senses since just before they crossed the Hyperion's threshold – built-in defense which vampires could recognize werewolves, their natural enemies, with.

But it had never been that strong in the boy, to Spike's recollection. Before, Spike had to stretch his senses out to sense that there was more to Oz than met the eye. Yet, now, Spike could sense the wolf aspect coming off Oz in waves. Which could mean that either the beast inside had become more powerful…or the blonde werewolf had managed to do something Spike had only heard tales of, but never actually believed…

"Um, it's…complicated," was Oz's reply to Xander.

At that moment, Willow had emerged from Angel's study, stopping short in front of the group, but having eyes only for Oz. And the same could be said of him…

"Wills!" Xander greeted. "What's the good word? Any news on how we can get Cordy back to normal?"

"Huh?" Willow answered, as if in a fog. "OH! Uh, it'll take an hour, but, um, I think Buffy and Angel can fill you in."

Neither Oz nor Willow acted as if they heard a word that Xander was speaking as they slowly moved towards each other. "Why would we wait until they come out when you can just tell us what you…"

Willow motioned with her neck towards the staircase. "So…talk now?"

Oz gave a simple nod, his eyes the only indication of his nervous anticipation. "Now's good."

As they walked past everyone up the stairs to Willow's room, Xander protest slowly died. "Hey, Willow, are you even listening to me and…of course not, because she's walking upstairs pretending to ignore every word I have to say."

"Thought you'd be used to it, by now," Faith smirked, to which an annoyed Xander glared at. Nearby, Spike could help but to grin at the dark-haired Slayer's snark.

"Uh, better let 'em be, guys," Lorne said. "I've got a hunch those two have a lot to work out."

With nearly perfect timing, at that very moment, Angel walked out of the study, trailed by Buffy.

"Speaking of which…" Lorne knowingly concluded, while Spike's sharp gaze beheld

Gunn was the first to speak to the pair. "So, got any answers yet?"

Angel nodded. "We did. It looks like there may be a shot."

"It's a risky one, but it's the only option we've got that doesn't involve chopping off Cordy's head," Buffy added. "But we're going to have to wait another hour before we can start. Part of some mystical mojo thingamajig Darla and I just did."

"You and _Darla_?" a confused Xander blurted.

"But will it work?" Fred asked, nervously.

"Don't know, Fred," Angel answered, honestly. "But we'll try."

Buffy cut in at this point. "Giles and Wes will fill you guys in. Me and the big guy need a moment."

Spike turned his eyes to her, the hint of jealousy not too subtle there. "Off for a little heart-to-unbeating-heart between ex-lovebirds, eh?"

The blonde Slayer threw her recently former undead paramour a pleading glance. "Spike, please, not now," Buffy implored quietly.

Angel, however, was ever too quick to rise to the bait. "You know what, Spike? I really don't see how that's any of your business."

"Isn't it, now?" Spike retorted as he stepped lithely down the staircase until he was in close proximity to the original Slayer and Vampire-with-a-Soul. "Last I checked, it was my apocalypse, too, Windshield Head. Last I checked, sorting out failed romance issues wasn't on the check list of things necessary to save the world."

"And last _I_ checked, the name on the card read Angel Investigations, not Spike's Stupid Inquiries," Angel fired back, his dark brown eyes hardened like coals as he glared at his old protégée/nemesis. "You don't tell me what to do in my home, got that, Bleach Wad?"

"Guys, come on…" Faith sighed, exasperated.

Spike's already volatile temper was flaring as he glowered at Angel, the old, raw wounds of rivalry and fresh jealousy over one small California blonde mixing to create a deadly recipe for violence. "You know what, you big lummox? Piss on your card, piss on your home, and piss on you, to even it all out."

"It's only even if you used an even number of things for insults, idiot. If you've got a problem with me talking to Buffy, then you can take it up with me later," Angel bit out, his large fists clenching as his mind, telling him to calm down while Buffy was here, warred with his instincts, which told him to knock Spike into next Tuesday…about 3 centuries from now.

The mention of Buffy's name coming off his lips was more than enough to propel a simmering Spike forward as he came face-to-face with his former mentor and present thorn-in-his-backside, his every impulse yearning to detach that his pompous Sire's overly large head off those obviously padded shoulders. "How 'bout screw later, and let's take it up right _now_, mate?"

"Uh-oh," Fred nervously gulped.

Angel regarded his Grandchilde coolly, his voice dropping an octave into a more sinister tone - one that would do his twisted alter ego proud. "Fine. Your funeral."

But before the two vampires could get ready to rumble, Buffy harshly shoved them apart.

"How about _both_ of your funerals?" she angrily asked, eyeing each undead man with similar contempt. "Because that's going to be the end result if I have to put up with any more of this undead macho madness crap. So I suggest you two get the hell over it. _Now_."

Never taking his eyes off Angel, Spike addressed Buffy, his trademark smirk making its return. "No problem, luv. I'm a big vampire, after all."

Angel rolled his eyes, trying his best to rein in his composure.

Andrew watched the two vampires' tense confrontation with unusual intrigue. "This is better than cable," he whispered excitedly to Anya.

"I'll say. My money's on the big one, though. He's sexy," Anya replied to the boy in hushed tones as she regarded the taller, broad-shouldered Angel with lascivious approval.

Xander, hearing her not-too-muted comments about Angel, scowled. Buffy, Cordy, now Anya…it was like the guy was undead catnip for chicks. Sure, he had the height, and muscled physique and the whole tortured-selfless-hero gig working for him, but honestly, what did girls see in him, anyway?

Fred exhaled, relieved. "Whew. That was a close one."

"No kidding, Cinnamon Stick," Lorne agreed, using his red silk handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his green brow. "Thought we were in for a Smackdown in Tinseltown."

"Too bad," a disappointed Gunn groused. "I was kinda lookin' forward to Angel smacking Little Boy Blond around the lobby."

The doe-eyed inventor gave her ex-boyfriend an admonishing glance. "Charles…"

The street-raised vampire killer shrugged dispassionately. "Hey, just saying. Billy Jr. over there's been doing nothing but piss people off since he got here. Maybe Angel's the guy to put him in his place."

Spike, his sensitive vampire hearing overhearing Gunn's comment, threw a glare towards the young man, but said nothing. If he could withstand Harris's crap for four years, he could weather some punk street kid's snarks. Besides, he just gave his word to Buffy that he'd be a good little vampire in front of all the kiddies. The last thing he wanted was to make himself look worse - especially in front of his bloody bore of a Grandsire.

Annoyed, Faith decided to move things along. Seeing Buffy's sordid love life might have given her a kick back when she was taking a walk on the wild side, but now that she had taken a higher road - and the whole inclusion of Spike giving her an unusually jealous vibe - she preferred for the older Slayer to take the show behind closed doors.

"Uh, B? Tick-tock. Don't you think you and the Big Guy should get going, already?"

Buffy raised a quizzical eyebrow at her former arch-rival. "_Somebody's_ in a rush."

Faith shrugged. "Time is money around the apocalypse. Just sayin.'"

"She's right, you know," Angel chimed in, which earned him a glare from Buffy.

Still, the chagrined blonde acknowledged, Faith was right. It was time to get some questions answered, and only Angel could do that for her.

"Fine," Buffy sighed. "We'll be in Angel's room. Knock if you need us."

Without another word, the two heroes ascended the long staircase upstairs. And all the while, Spike's narrowed eyes never left the pair…to which an observant Faith, who caught the blond vampire's actions, lowered her eyes, feeling something almost akin to disappointment.

"Well, that was nice and nerve-wracking," Lorne chuckled nervously.

"With those two? You get used to it," Xander sighed.

The door to the study opened again at that moment, and out walked Whistler, followed by Wesley and Giles, a pair of grave expressions on the British graduates of the Watchers Academy.

"You guys aren't planning on going 'Love Boat' or 'Showdown at the OK Corral' on us, are ya?" Fred timidly smiled.

At that, Wesley and Giles exchanged confused stares. "Showdown at - did we miss something?" a puzzled Giles asked.

"Nothing you can't catch on tomorrow's 'Passions,'" Spike waved it off. "So, did our three new guests bring any treats in their bag of tricks?"

"Um, yes, actually, Whistler and Lindsey have proven to be most useful," Giles replied, his shrewd green eyes noting how Wesley, to the right of him, flexed the muscle in his jaw at the mention of the former lawyer's name.

Gunn's eyes narrowed as he noticed the absence of two key figures. "Speaking of which, where is Evil Matlock and Darla?"

Whistler pointed back to the study. "They're, uh, working some things out."

At this, Xander groaned. "Geez, at this point, you could start a drinking game from all the mushy stuff that's going around here."

_You should talk_, Anya inwardly groused as she eyed the still-unconscious 'Cordelia' bound on the tilt table in the center of the lobby. He'd seen Xander take several concerned glances in that direction while Oz was talking to them earlier.

"So, you guys got the 411 on the First or Big Bad Anonymous?" Faith asked. "If we're going to be fighting that thing, it'd sure as hell come in handy to know who or what we're dealing with."

Both British men exchanged wary glances before turning back to Faith. "Yes, we have," Wesley replied. "Unfortunately, the situation is much worse than we realized."

"Aww, man," Xander sighed. "Why can't the situation ever be not so serious, or a tad bordering on whimsical, maybe even comical?"

"Because we're talking about evil, Hard Hat Brain, not your fighting or sexual prowess," Spike sneered, having all he could take of Xander's ill-timed comedy. "Now, shut up and let the man brief us."

Xander scowled. "Oh, look, Spike made a funny. Well, at least he's not _completely_ useless."

"Couldn't be taking _your_ schtick now, could we, Harris?" the platinum-haired vampire smirked.

Xander was about to fire back when Faith - who had just about enough of the male temper tantrums for one apocalypse - reached to her waistband for her stake, grabbed it and promptly shattered a nearby vase at the base of the stairs, startling everyone.

"Okay, here's the deal - no more fights, no more tantrums and no more pissing contests between anyone. Because the next one that opens his or her mouth with anything that even smells like a snark is gonna get an _ass_-whuppin' Slayer style. _Capishe_?"

The tone in the sultry South Boston beauty's voice left no doubt that she meant business.

Xander, not wanting to test her, merely turned his mouth and looked away.

"Yes, m'aam," replied Spike, whose eyebrow rose in intrigue at Faith's display of power. Damn, what was it about Slayers that got his batteries so charged up?

Apparently, he wasn't the only one as Whistler began leering at Faith. "Is anyone else a little turned on, here?"

Off Faith's glare, Whistler - suddenly apprehensive - mouthed 'Sorry' to her, his hands raised defensively.

Giles cleared his throat. "Um, yes, thank you, Faith, for that…strong sense of initiative. Listen, closely, everyone, and we'll tell you what we've just discovered, and why it changes things considerably."

The group realized that the elder Watcher was not kidding when he told them of the First's grand plan, and the shocking involvement of one of the Powers that Be themselves.

"Oh, this is bad," Xander muttered.

"Bad? No, expired milk is bad, Rob Schneider in a thong is bad…right now, we're boned," Anya shook her head. "And not in the nice, sweaty, fatigue-inducing way."

"Wow. I was right, all along. They really _are_ The Powers-That-Screw-You," a disillusioned Fred sighed.

Gunn was warring between outrage and disbelief. "Hold up, you're telling me that the guys we've been going to bat for the last three and a half years are the ones going Godzilla all over us?"

Andrew was about to speak up, undoubtedly over the Godzilla reference, when Xander pointed warningly at him, his eyes saying 'Don't even _think_ about it."

"Only one of them is," Wesley answered. "It's a rogue Power that wishes to impose world peace by force. Apparently, it has no idea that it's being manipulated by the First." He turned to Skip, eyes narrowed. "Does it?"

_Damn! The jig is up,_ was Skip's panicked thought, before he put on his mask of bravado. "So, you finally figured it out. Took you retards long enough. Have a cookie, folks, 'cause everyone's a winner!"

Giles eyed the trapped minion in curiosity. "I don't wager that trapped Power would appreciate being made a fool out of if it found out what you and your parasitic friend really have planned for it."

"Well, gee, Mr. Belvedere, it's a good thing that it's buried so far deep inside that it doesn't have a clue," Skip sneered. "Like a cocoon, waiting to sprout wings."

"It won't get a chance," Wesley icily replied.

"The night's still young," Skip retorted.

Spike grew bored with Skip's ramblings. "Alright, we got the info. All in favor of me chopping Tin Grin's head off and playing 'Kick the can' with it, say 'aye.'"

"Aye," the group raised their hands nearly unanimously, causing Skip's eyes to bulge in fear.

"It's not that simple, Spike," Giles stepped in front of the grinning vampire, who was on his feet and cracking his knuckles while starting towards the imprisoned demon. "He might know something else that hasn't been factored in."

"He'll be more useful alive," Wesley added. "More annoying, but useful."

Spike rolled his eyes at Wesley. "Oh, please, who're you kidding, Percy? Shiny Tim over there probably spilled everything he's got. I used to be evil, you know. If I was the boss, you really think I'd just spill all the beans to a blabbermouth like that?"

At that moment, Dawn's light footsteps heralded her bounding quickly down the staircase, a frantic look on her face.

"Hey, Nibblet, you feeling better?" Spike gently asked, genuine concern on his face.

"Getting there," Dawn nodded, before looking to the rest of the group. "Um…have any of you guys seen Connor?"

Gunn frowned. "Junior took off when Lindsey, the porkpie guy and that Oz cat showed up. Figured he was with you."

Dawn was surprised. "Oz? He's _here_?"

"Sure is," Xander replied. "Back and conversational as ever."

Wesley interjected. "Dawn…why are you looking for Connor when he should be upstairs with you and the others?"

At that, Dawn lowered her eyes in guilt, her hands wringing themselves nervously. "We kinda…had a fight. I tried to explain, but he got so mad, and he just…left."

"Left? As in…_left_?" Fred asked.

"Well, it's probably not as in 'right,'" Xander reflexively quipped.

Ignoring Xander, Dawn continued, "I-I don't know. I was hoping he was down here with you guys, but he mentioned something about…going out?"

At that, the Angel Investigations team threw up their hands or shook their heads in dismay.

"Not again," Fred groaned.

"I swear, we've got to put one of those ankle bracelet things the cops use on that boy," Lorne added in consternation.

"This is bad. Really bad," Faith added in concern. "That kid could be anywhere by now, with his speed."

"And with the spell about to be performed in an hour, we can't spare the manpower to search for him," Wesley added. "And if we tell Angel…"

"He'll flip his lid," Gunn finished. "But maybe we ought to grab him now, let _him_ find the kid."

"Don't bother," Faith replied, drawing looks from the others. "I'm not doing much right now. I'll go get him."

"By _yourself_?" Giles asked.

Faith shrugged. "Why not? That's not exactly a new theme for me, Giles."

"Faith, the city is still lousy with vampire cliques left over from the Permanent Midnight. You'll need backup," Wesley cautioned.

"Wes. I'm a _Slayer_," Faith deadpanned. "I'm thinking _they're_ the ones that'll need the backup."

"Still, wouldn't hurt to have someone watch your back, luv," Spike added. "Sounds like that's me."

Although surprised, and flattered, Faith also felt the loner inside her bristle. She'd been taking care of herself since she was 15 years old with a dead mom and an imprisoned-for-life dad. She didn't need anyone to take care of her…no matter how hot he is.

"Thanks, Simon Phoenix, but I've got this," Faith waved him off. "Besides, we might need you here if Mace Face over there," she pointed at Skip, "gets unruly."

"Come on, pet, think about it," Spike gently pressed on. "I've got the kid's scent. And I happen to be the most feared vampire this side of the Western Hemisphere."

"Second most feared," Giles softly corrected.

"Shut up, old man," Spike bit out, before returning to Faith. "What do ya say? You and me, we could haul Broody Junior back home for his spanking and still have time to see the show."

Spike could see Faith mull it over, watched the thoughts stir in those seductive brown orbs as she considering his proposition.

"Well, Connor is a sneaky little scamp," Lorne said. "Might not hurt to have some vamp senses along."

"Sneaky, huh? Well, that's right up your alley, isn't it, Spike?" Xander baited him.

"Go sit on a welder, you second-rate Bob Villa wannabe," Spike shot back.

Faith sighed as she realized what she had to do to keep the peace. "Alright, alright, you can tag along. A little distance is probably the only way we can get you to not rip Xander a new throat hole."

"Gonna need a little _more_ distance for that, pet," Spike chuckled, pleased that she had agreed to take him…er, _with_ her, that is.

"Try Timbuktu, then, Spike," Xander snarked. "I hear it's great this time of year."

"You armed?" Faith asked her new traveling partner, paying no mind to Xander.

"And dangerous," Spike grinned, opening his trademark black trenchcoat to reveal three stakes looped on the right side.

"Then let's boogie, handsome," Faith smirked, as they headed towards the door -

"Wait!"

Both vampire and Slayer paused before turning back at Dawn's voice.

"Guys, I should go, too," Dawn said.

Faith shook her head. "Sorry, kiddo. This ain't no babysitting gig."

"I don't need babysitting," Dawn replied defensively.

"All the same, we can't take you with us, Bite-Size," Spike replied, his tone apologetic. "Too many uglies out there."

"It's not safe, Dawn," Giles added.

Xander crossed his arms. "And I don't think Buffy would be too keen on it, especially with you sneaking out of here, oh, what, 15 minutes ago?"

"I-I know," Dawn sighed. "But it's just…I'm the one who got Connor upset. Maybe if I can come along, apologize, m-maybe I can convince him to come back. He'd be less likely to put up a fight if it came from me."

Anya dryly chuckled at Dawn's perceived inexperience. "Dawnie, you've got a _lot_ to learn about men."

Dawn threw her a dirty look before returning pleading blue eyes to Faith and Spike. "_Pleeease_? He needs me. You won't even know I'm there, I'll be extra quiet, I _promise_."

She was racking her brain to come up with something more convincing…

"Plus, if you don't take me, I-I-I'll just sneak out, _anyway_," Dawn added triumphantly.

Giles eyed the girl, sternly. "Dawn, for future reference, perhaps you shouldn't announce your intentions to sneak out _beforehand_."

Realizing her gaffe, Dawn blushed, embarrassed.

Faith threw up her hands. "You know what? Fine. B's probably gonna have my head on a stick for this, but fine. Grab a stake and hurry up."

An elated Dawn beamed at them. "Got one in my pocket! Let's go."

An apprehensive Giles said, "Faith, I have to advise against this."

Faith shrugged. "Hey, you heard the kid. If she snuck out once, she's probably going to do it again. At least this way, we can keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

"Besides, maybe Little Bit's right," Spike sighed. "If she can turn up those baby blues at the boy, it might lure the little sneak back here for his spanking."

Giles was unconvinced, folding his arms across his chest. "And what do I tell Buffy when she asks why her sister is no longer in the safety of the hotel, but rather again roaming about LA on another chase?"

Again, the dark-haired Slayer shrugged. "Not sure. But make it something good. I'm in enough hot water with her, as it is. See ya."

With that, Faith Spike and Dawn quickly filed out the entrance, closing the door behind them, leaving the group speechless - and leaving Giles flustered.

"Something good," the former Sunnydale High librarian muttered. "Oh, yes, that should be bloody priceless."

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Angel's Study**

**Now**

**

* * *

**

In the 29 years that Lindsey had been alive, he could never recall an instance where he was uncomfortable being alone with a beautiful woman.

Yet, as Darla bored those intense blue eyes into his own, he couldn't help but to have second thoughts about being alone with her.

It was to be expected, he supposed. He knew he was likely to have this coming when he hopped in that white van and turbo-boosted his way down the western US coast line for LA. Hell, if he hadn't forgiven himself for the Drusilla thing, how could he expect Darla to?

But he had to try.

"Um, heh, I don't suppose it'd help my case if I told you that you looked pretty damn good for a not-so-dead girl, would it?" he chuckled.

The blonde woman's cold glare did not melt in the slightest. "One, you're not charming or funny, and two, you're wasting that one minute of time I gave you to explain yourself."

Lindsey wasn't expecting that. "One min-? Darla, I thought that was just a figure of speech. You don't really want to just give me one minute of time to say what I wanted to…?"

Unmoved, Darla replied, "57 seconds. 56, 55, _54_-"

"Okay, okay!" Lindsey held his hands up, gesturing for her to stop. This was not going to be easy. But hell, he was a lawyer once, so he figured he would do what most lawyers do - talk their way out of it. "Look, I don't expect you to be happy to see me-"

"I'm _not_," she bluntly replied.

"You said you'd give me one minute," Lindsey patiently said, although he was careful to temper his voice, lest she decide to walk out on him and end his audience with her.

Frowning, Darla folded her arms across her chest, sighing in resignation. "Fine. Go on."

Nodding gratefully, Lindsey resumed his speech. "I don't expect you to be happy to see me. I know I probably wouldn't be, if I was in your shoes. After all, what I did to you was…it was wrong-"

"Wrong?" Darla gave him an incredulous look. "Is that the word for what you did in that hotel room that night? _Wrong_?"

She stepped towards him, the frigidness of her stare pinning Lindsey in place. "Lindsey, when you steal out of the box for charity, that's wrong. When you jaywalk, that's wrong. When you lie at confession to your priest, that is wrong."

Her fists balled up at her sides, and for a moment, Lindsey felt as if he should have braced himself for another punch to the face. "You fed me…like _fish food_…to a lunatic demon who turned me back into a soulless monster that killed hundreds of people shortly afterwards and slaughtered countless others before that. There's a word for what you did to me, Lindsey, and it sure as hell isn't 'wrong'. It's more along the lines of…" she broke off for a moment, as if searching for the right word. "_Unforgivable_."

He could feel his heart sink at the word. "I…I thought it was what you wanted. To live…"

"Being a vampire _isn't_ living. It's a demon walking around in your body, while the real you is gone," she heatedly cut him off. "It's a violation, a _perversion_, of a person's life."

"I know that," he hastily amended. "But Darla, I…I saw the look in your eyes when Holland handed you back the test results. And how you were acting when you were dealing with your soul. You were at the razor's edge, Darla. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how else to help you. I…I just wanted to make it all go away for you."

"By taking my _life_?" she angrily exclaimed, causing him to flinch. Darla shook her head. "Okay, I admit it, I was panicking when I found out I was dying. I didn't like it the first time when I was bedridden while the syphilis was eating away my heart in 1600, and I didn't care for it the second time. But at the heart of it, I never wanted to be what I was _ever again_."

Her eyes watered for a moment. "You have no idea what I've done, and you have no clue to what it's like carrying that around…and caring. Feeling utter remorse for hurting and killing good people, _children_, and knowing that no matter how sorry you are, you can never take it back…you can't ever make it right."

"That's where you're wrong, Darla," Lindsey spoke earnestly. "There isn't a moment of the day in the last two years that I haven't regretted everything I've done at Wolfram & Hart. You know who they are, you know the kinds of things they do. And, unfortunately, I had a big hand in making some of those things happen. I never killed anybody, but there were a lot of times where I facilitated things for their funerals to come sooner than expected."

The reminder of his past deeds made Darla wary again as she guardedly eyed the ex-lawyer. "And with that in mind, we're supposed to trust you _**why**_?"

Deciding he had no real proof other than his own convictions, Lindsey went with the truth.

"Because things change. I've changed, Darla. From the looks of things, you know a little something about that yourself, don't you?"

Always the observant one, Darla regarded him from head to toe, trying to find anything in his body language as a tell-tale sign of lies or deceit. The former vampire was very good at reading people - it tended to happen with 400 years worth of practice. But try as she might, she could not find anything. For a brief moment, she missed her old otherworldly abilities of being able to hear the pace of his heartbeat, or to smell the salty stink of fear indicative of a lying human.

Without her vampiric powers, all she could go on was her gut - and when it came to Lindsey, even she could never be sure.

She let out a breathy, weary sigh. "Why are you here, Lindsey?"

The Midwest native shrugged. "_You're_ here. That's enough for me."

Off this, the blonde beauty gave him an incredulous, brief and very wry chuckle. "You can't honestly expect that after…_everything_…that you could come in and, what, sweep me off my feet with a few magical baubles and a pair of sad puppy dog blue eyes?"

He couldn't help but to smirk at that last line, sensing that perhaps there was a little bit of the old attraction there that Darla was trying to mask behind this wall of resistance.

"So, you like my eyes, do ya?" he drawled with a wolfish grin.

Off her glare, he wisely switched gears, dropping the grin and going back to honesty - a hard tactic to master for a former lawyer. "I'm not expecting you to swoon at the sight of me, Darla, nor am I expecting your forgiveness. But, as it happens, I'm willing to earn either one while I'm here."

What scared her most was wondering if she was more upset that he could be lying…or that he was telling the truth.

"Thank you for the help, Lindsey. Really."

He began to smile, until Darla brought it to a halt with her next words. "But I think it's best that you leave. Even if I did trust you - which I don't - there's nothing for you here."

Shaking off the sting of that request, Lindsey shook his head. He was never one to just give up easily on anything, and he'd be damned if he was about to start now.

"I think I'll be the judge of what's here for me and what isn't," he answered.

Exasperated, Darla tried again. "Lindsey-"

He stopped her with an upheld hand. "No, Darla. While it'd mean everything to me if I knew - for a second - that you felt even inkling for me what I feel for you…the fact is, there's an apocalypse comin' soon. Lot of people are going to get hurt without the right help. Might as well help 'em, if I can. It's my planet, too, and all."

Darla felt herself becoming more frustrated by the minute. She didn't trust Lindsey for a second, especially not so close to her son. And Darla was never a forgiving soul, to begin with.

And yet, he looked so convincing that a traitorous piece of her heart wanted to believe in his words of contrition and remorse.

"This is a really bad idea," she warned him.

He smiled sadly. "Wouldn't be the first I had."

"You could end up getting yourself killed."

Off those words, Lindsey studied her carefully, peering closely through the flawless beauty, catching something in her crystal blue eyes that ignited hope in his heart…a flicker, an ember, of concern.

"Would you care?" he asked softly.

Despite a sudden and brief tremor in her heart, Darla slipped on her mask of indifference, as she shook her head. "Why should I?"

His eyes gave her a measuring gaze as he smirked in bemusement. "You tell me."

"Don't," she warned him.

"Don't what?"

"Don't try to use that charm on me, because it's not going to work," she clarified, her eyes turning diamond hard again. "I've seen your kind before, Lindsey. For four centuries, to be exact. You hurt whoever you want, take what you can, and when your victim wises up to your act, you make with the '_But, sweetheart, I'm different now_!' speech and all is forgiven to someone with the IQ of a raisin. But I don't charm so easily. I'm not some barmaid floozy or moony-eyed teenager you can flirt out of her dress, and I'm sure as hell not ready to forget about what you did to me."

Remembering something he had seen earlier that made his blood boil, he took several slow steps in Darla's direction, trying hard to keep his jealousy in check as he willed his voice to go smoothly quiet.

"I guess you'd prefer the strong, silent broody type, then? Guess your tastes in men haven't changed much, have they?"

Darla felt her own temper begin to rise at his audacity. "You don't have any clue what you're talking about. Between Angel and I, there is nothing but-"

"I wasn't talking about Angel." He cut her off. "I see the way you were looking at Stubbles the whole time we were discussing the big plot."

Heat flushed her cheeks as she was blindsided by his crack, feeling anger as she stared at Lindsey's handsome, yet accusing face and confusion as she suddenly pictured Wesley's sullen, rugged and, oddly, caring features. "That's _none_ of your business."

_The hell it isn't!_, he wanted to shout out, but bit his tongue even as his fears were confirmed about her feelings for that limey ex-Watcher bastard.

"Okay, maybe not," he sighed. "But come on, Darla, of all people, _Wesley_? Whistler filled me in on the details about Angel Investigations since I left. The guy's about one bad turn away from snapping. He couldn't hold a job, a girlfriend or his own friends if it meant saving his own life. Hell, _he_ was the one who helped that crazy vampire hunter kidnap your son into a hell dimension. He's a loser, Darla, and if you ask me-"

"_Shut up_!" she snapped angrily, effectively silencing him. "Just. Shut. Up. I don't give a damn what some Joe Pesci wannabe told you about Wesley, I know what I've seen. And if you think I'm just going to stand here and let you - _you_, of all people - insult him like that-"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel a little something when you see me."

The words surprised her as Lindsey's clear blue eyes, smoldering with such intensity that she forced herself not to flinch, bore into her. He closed the gap between them, until there was barely a foot of distance from their bodies, the dizzying allure of that Jasmine scent shouting at his every hormone to take her into his arms.

For all her grudges and righteous anger, Darla was a woman, after all. And she would be lying if she didn't find him attractive, the piercing eyes, the clean, yet inviting smell of his aftershave…so damn attractive it was almost unfair.

Yet, she still managed to steel herself and dim her own attraction when she calmly met his eyes. "I feel _nothing_ for you."

However, Lindsey was no stranger to reading body language himself. He had to know it, given his former employers. And as he peered through the icy walls of her azure eyes to see something more than anger, he was pleased to find a flicker, a spark of something softer…

He couldn't help but to flash another of his so-damn-sure-of-himself smiles as he narrowed the distance between them even more, close enough to feel the heat rising from her chest. "Really? 'Cause your eyes are tellin' me something different, darlin'."

His hand slowly reached upwards and finally found her face. Lindsey felt a shiver of pleasure as his rough fingertips registered the smooth velvet softness of Darla's flesh as he gently cupped her right cheek.

The blonde felt her pulse begin to quicken at Lindsey's touch, feeling his daft fingers brush into her golden hair, frozen in confusion as her brain, which told her to slap him away, warred with her heart, which involuntarily hammered against her chest in an unwanted, but undeniable excitement.

She hated how shaky, how insecure her voice sounded when she asked, "What are you doing?"

He smiled again, his voice growing husky. "Getting another bad idea."

And then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, and for a moment, both flashed back to another time their lips met, years ago, in an office at Wolfram & Hart, when for a fleeting moment, a tortured soul and a lonely heart thought they could find peace in one another…

As they broke the kiss, Darla's words were spoken softly, a whisper in the wind that sent waves of warmth all the way down to his toes. "You were right."

Her knee, however, was solid as a rock as it connected with his groin, the sharp and sudden explosion of pain causing Lindsey to groan as he sunk to his knees.

Her next words were cold and hard as that blow to his private region. "That was a very bad idea."

With that, she turned on her heels and left the study, slamming the door as she went.

And yet, through the pain as he hissed, clutching his wounded manhood, he couldn't help but to smile. _Yup, worth every bit of it_.

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel- Willow's Suite**

**Now**

**

* * *

**

Three years, seven months, 16 days and way too many minutes and seconds.

That's how long it was since Oz and Willow had last talked. Face to face. Alone.

And now, the only thing in Willow's suite that separated the two former lovers was a few feet of air.

Air…and hesitation.

Willow wringed her hands, unsure of what to say, yet wanting to say and ask so much.

"So…you're back," she started, cringing inwardly at how lame that sounded.

Oz nodded, a calm gesture in comparison to the storm of emotions inside of the werewolf. "Looks like."

"Um, so, uh…why?

The Dingoes' ax-man shrugged. "Whistler paid me a little visit in Seattle. Said some wicked stuff was going down. Figured my place was here."

Willow's green eyes lowered in disappointment. "Oh. So, that's the only reason you came…"

He immediately read her gesture, and his eyes softened at her wounded look. Gently, he reached over and cupped her chin, raising her head to meet his eyes.

"Not the only reason. Not even the main one."

His soft words brought a warming sensation through the redhead, who felt a smile begin to tug at her lips, before she froze it. While it was wonderful seeing Oz here, having him here complicated things.

Before she could voice her fears, Oz's eyes gazed at her sympathetically as he added soft condolences. "I heard about Tara…I'm sorry."

Willow closed her eyes as the pain of loss and heartbreak knifed at her heart. "It's okay…I dealt with it. Well, in a way, I still sort of am, but…"

"You're healing," Oz nodded in understanding. "I get that."

Of course he would, Willow mused. Oz was among the most understanding, the most patient of souls that she had ever met. It's part of what she loved about him. At that moment, a new feeling - guilt - crept over the Wicca powerhouse, who suddenly remembered that there was someone else in her life, a certain headstrong, pretty Potential, who warranted consideration.

Oz began summarizing his travels abroad in the last several years, travels that led from one amazing adventure to the next in search of an answer to his unique situation. Willow was surprised at all he had been through in the last three years. The quiet musician had never been the adventurous type, even though he was a key member of the Scoobies. And now, he had gone all Indiana Jones on her.

"Wow. Looks like someone's been a busy beaver," she gave a small smile, which he returned.

"I guess I have," he said.

"But did you…you know, find what you were looking for?" she asked, curious. "Are you…cured?"

"You mean if the wolf is gone?" Off her nod, Oz shook his head. "No."

Willow sighed in disappointment, knowing how important it was for Oz to rid himself of the werewolf, although she had never cared as she knew that the wolf was only a small part of the real Oz. "Oh…I-I'm sorry, Oz."

"No, it's okay," he assured her, which caused the redhead to raise her eyebrows in surprise. "I learned something new. Something better."

"Better?" she repeated, confused.

"It wasn't for lack of trying to get rid of it," he sighed, recalling his journey. "I've been so scared of the wolf getting loose and hurting anyone, hurting people I love, that for a while I didn't want to be around anyone. I went as far away as I could to get some distance. That took for about a month before I realized that the only way to avoid being alone all the time was to get rid of it."

Her heart hurt for Oz as she pictured how lonely that must have been, all because of something he had inside of him that he feared could hurt those closest to him. A feeling that she, herself, was now more than a little familiar with.

"I tried everything," he continued. "Visited all sorts of temples. Tried all kinds of magic. Buddhist herbs, chants, meditation…none of it worked. I was tempted to just…give in, let the wolf side take over and lose myself in it. It would have been so easy…"

"So, why didn't you?" Willow asked.

"I couldn't let you guys down," he said, sincerely. "I knew if I didn't control it, I'd end up hurting people again. I wouldn't let that happen. I kept searching, hoping for something, anything to give me a break…and then I found it. In Tibet."

Willow frowned. "But you tried it there once. I thought it didn't take."

"There was another way I found," he explained. "The original Tibetan religion. It's called Bon."

"Bon…" Willow tried the words on her lips, before she remembered something. "Wait, that religion trying to find a body-mind nirvana, or, or something?"

Oz nodded. "I studied the original scriptures. Learned from them. In Bon, the spiritual life in all things in the world is connected. We are part of it all. And that's where I found the answer. I've been trying so long to contain the wolf, or cage it. But the wolf doesn't like to be caged, that makes it angry. The more I realized the wolf was a part of me, the sooner I realized that it was also a part of the energy around us…a part of the earth. The secret is not to bottle the wolf, but letting its energy flow through me, out of me without taking me, letting it pass into the world around us, and pull the wolf into the earth."

Willow frowned. "Okay, so you're saying you turned the wolf into energy and just…let it go?"

Oz shook his head. "No, Willow. The wolf was already energy. Like you, like me. It's like…you know how when lightning hits a lightning rod, how it doesn't blow up a house, but it just lets it pass into the ground?"

Off her nod, he continued. "Well, it's sort of like that. The difference is…I can hold a part of it back." He smiled mischievously. "Watch this."

Suddenly, his right hand grew several inches longer, normal fingers turning into brown, elongated tendrils with razor sharp claws. Willow gasped, instinctively recoiling as she knew what that meant - exit Oz, stage right, enter killer werewolf, stage left.

To her surprise, however, Oz's hand suddenly turned back to normal, no traces of the wolf left.

Willow was stunned. "How did you - "

She barely had time to utter the words as Oz, in a dazzling display of speed, moved in a blur around the room until he came up just behind Willow, finishing her sentence. "…do that?"

The powerful witch jumped, startled at his inhuman display of speed, reeling as her brilliant mind tried to process what was happening. He was Oz, just guitar-playing, understanding, taciturn, wolfy Oz. How was he doing this?

He smiled at her confusion. "I had a chance to get rid of the wolf for good. But the more I thought of it, the more I mastered the technique, I started thinking. What if I could use the wolf to help others?"

To say Willow was surprised was an understatement. "So, you kept it?"

Oz simply nodded. "Part of it."

"B-but I thought you wanted to get rid of the wolf," she asked, dumbfounded by his revelation. That was all he had ever wanted, she had believed. To be normal.

"I thought so, too," he said. "But I started thinking about us, and the others. Being a Scooby for north of two years…it changes you. Makes you remember that there are other people out there that could use a hand. Other people that don't know the kinds of things that we know…the kinds of things that are out there. Maybe…I thought if I could understand the wolf, maybe I could use it." He stopped, as if considering his next move. "And I did. I can."

With that, he closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, they were no longer their normal sharp blue…but an dark, onyx black.

Willow gasped. "Oz, your eyes-"

Her warning was too late as she could see his muscles begin to grow, hair begin to sprout uncontrollably from every inch of him, his face shifting into something more feral, more primal…and at last, he was the wolf again, snarling in primal fury.

Willow gaped in horror, her brain screaming at her to run, to cast a spell, to do…anything, but her body unable to comply as she instinctively began to back away from the raging beast in front of her.

Without warning, the wolf suddenly began to move towards her, sending the witch stumbling to the floor against her dresser, whimpering in fear as she held up her hands protectively…

…only to be surprised when the wolf let out a whining sound, and sat in front of her, once ferocious eyes now suddenly turning into large, sad saucers, not unlike puppy dog eyes.

Willow stared in confusion at the enormous lupine creature in front of her, watching its mouth pant quickly as it slowly leaned forward to her, stunned green eyes meeting glowing yellow eyes of the wolf as Willow searched for something she once thought impossible to find in the wolf…

"Oz?" she breathed.

At that, the wolf bobbed its enormous head up and down, its version of a nod, as it playfully licked a surprised Willow's face, sitting up almost obediently in front of her, its tongue wagging like a domesticated pup.

Against her brain's warnings, Willow tentatively reached up and placed each hand on the wolf's face, marvelling at the softness of the animal's fur. She had never been up close with Oz's other side before. At her touch, the beast gave another whimpering sound, its tongue still lolling from its mouth.

Willow's heart melted at the tenderness of the beast. "Oh, puppy!" she breathed in girlish enthusiasm.

The werewolf immediately rolled over on its back, as if playing dead, yet panting excitedly.

Willow smirked. "Okay, now you're just showing off." And yet, she couldn't resist giving the werewolf's belly a good, sound rubbing as it grunted in appreciation.

"_Willow, look out_!"

The moment was broken emphatically when a knife suddenly whistled through the air, aiming for werewolf Oz's throat. Only its supernatural instincts managed to save him from an untimely end as it quickly rose to its feet shielding Willow behind him, growling in anger at the intruder…

…a well-armed Kennedy, crossbow in hand as she loaded an arrow, ready to strike.

"Kennedy, stop!" Willow cried out, holding her hands up in front of the wolf.

"What are you doing?" a confused Kennedy demanded. "Get out of the way before that thing hurts you!"

"_Expellere!"_ Willow shouted, thrusting her hand forward and sending a jet of red energy that knocked Kennedy's crossbow from her hand, clattering to the floor.

The now-disarmed Kennedy stared at Willow in shock, while the snarling werewolf set its legs ready to pounce on the young Potential.

"_Oz_! Down, boy! It's okay, she's a friend, it's _okay_!" Willow placated the werewolf, stroking its head to let it know that the danger had passed.

"Oz?" the bewildered Kennedy wondered aloud, before the werewolf suddenly began changing, its feral features morphing back into the still-clothed Oz.

After keeping a close eye on the wide-eyed girl who attacked him, Oz brushed her off, turning concerned eyes to Willow. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"Me? You're the one who nearly got Pezed Dispensered," Willow reminded him.

Oz shrugged nonchalantly, his response making Willow roll her eyes. "It happens."

"Excuse me, _what the hell is going on here_?" Kennedy snapped, caught between furious and confusion…and more than a little jealous of the blond boy standing so close to her Willow.

Willow sighed. "Easy, Kennedy. He's a friend."

"You have a lot of friends who turn into monsters, do you?" Kennedy reconsidered her last sentence. "Well, okay, I guess you do, but -"

"This is Oz, Ken," Willow interjected. "You remember I told you about him, right?"

Off this knowledge, Kennedy stared in shock at the boy, who gave her a small wave and a 'Hi,' before she narrowed her eyes, jealousy and insecurity sweeping through her.

"New friend?" Oz asked Willow.

Willow hesitated. "New, um…_girl_-friend, actually."

A flash of hurt and surprise flickered in Oz's eyes, clearly unexpecting of that news. "Oh."

"Yeah," Willow nodded apologetically, unwilling to turn and see Kennedy, who suddenly looked quite smug at the revelation.

Forcing a smile, Oz nodded. "I'm…congrats, I guess."

But Willow wasn't fooled for a second. She knew Oz too well to buy the Joe Stoic act. "Oz…"

"Willow," Kennedy interrupted. "I just came from downstairs. They need you to start with the mojo."

Willow cursed under her breath as she remembered the excorcism spell that still needed to be conducted. Sadly, sorting things out with Oz would have to wait…saving Cordelia's life couldn't.

"You coming?" she asked him, tentatively.

The werewolf nodded. "Yeah, I'll be right down."

Apprehensively, Willow walked past Kennedy out of the room, the latter noticing, with hurt, how the redhead brushed past her without so much as a word.

Shaking off the wounds to his heart, Oz moved towards the door, when Kennedy shot out a hand, grabbing his arm with no gentle show of strength.

"So, _you're _the famous Oz I've heard _so _much about," Kennedy glanced at him, unimpresed. "Huh, with all the talk, I'd figure you'd be about seven feet tall."

"And shoot fire bolts from my eyes and lightning from my ass," Oz quipped, smiling. Off Kennedy's stony glare, his smile faltered. "I guess someone isn't a fan of Braveheart."

"Whatever," Kennedy brushed off his joke as she brusquely continued. "Look, Cujo, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing here, but I know what you're thinking. And you can forget it. Willow is taken. As in, by me. If I catch you so much as looking at her as anything outside the 'just-a-friend' status you've niched for yourself, this place is going to have a new throwrug made out of your ass - wolf or not. We clear?"

Oz regarded the rude girl that just threatened him, that tried to slit his throat in wolf form, that had taken his place in Willow's life…and calmly shrugged. "We're clear. Um, Kennedy, was it?"

"That's right, mutt, and you'd better damn well remember it," she sneered. "I had to go through a lot to get that girl to drop her guard after that Tara chick bit the big one, plus all the crap about her dark side. And now that I've got her, no chance in hell am I about to lose her to some rocker reject for a townie band that sprouts fur out of his face three nights out of the month. _I'm_ what she needs. She barely gives you a second thought."

The fact that he could have easily summoned enough strength to knock this girl for a loop, or enough wolf to make one hell of an after-dinner snack, was not lost on Oz. Lesser men would have succumbed to that urge at the rude demeanor of the pushy Potential.

Yet Oz was not a lesser man. With a level gaze, he eyed her tight grip on his arm. "Right. So, we gonna help our friends or continue this awkward scene? 'Cause I'm thinking the apocalypse is kinda up there on the list of priorities."

Scowling, Kennedy shoved his arm away. Before she could say another word, he was already on his way out the door, leaving the pampered daughter from a rich New York family frustrated, furious and feeling completely insecure about her newfound relationship with the redhead.

This Oz was looking to be a problem that she would have to deal with in her own way. And speaking of problems in need of dealing with, there was the matter of Angel. She vowed to give Robin the time he needed to figure out the truth about this so-called hero, and she would. But if he didn't take action soon, well, she might have to take matters into her own hands.

Besides, she smirked in satisfaction as she picked up her crossbow and admired the sharpness of the arrows, what better way to gain some cred as a fledgling future Slayer than to have dusting the infamous 'Scourge of Europe' as a notch on her belt?

* * *

To Be Continued

* * *

A/N : (Ducks head while dodging thrown objects from angry readers) Yeah, I know, I know: I promised "The Talk" and it's not here. But it will be happening in the next chapter, I promise! I've already got a big chunk of it finished, so I just need a little more (free) time to tighten it up. Keep in mind, guys, it's _Buffy_ and _Angel_. That talk has to be really good. Until next time, please read and review. Especially all you newbies out there! It will definitely inspire me to speed things up, no matter how busy I become. See ya!

* * *

Next: Connor finds himself in a jam while he's out. As Spike, Faith and Dawn search for Connor in a vamp-infested LA, where will they find the boy? And can they get to him in time?

Darla and Buffy enter Cordelia's mind. What kinds of pitfalls await there? Can they save her? And can they defeat this mysterious Power and parasite? Or have they just sealed their fates?

AND finally…

Buffy. Angel. THE TALK (For realsies, this time, I swear!)

* * *

Until next time,

Jean-theGuardian


	20. Part 18 Head Trippin' Part 2

I get by with a little help from my friends….(And a really awesome Beta by the name of Starway Man)

Hey, all! Looks like Spring '11 is just around the corner, and I can't wait. In the meantime, thanks to all who reviewed including MacKenzie Creations (great to have you back, Mac), oceanluvr, Lilly Emerald, Demondog666, teamtiva, BloodyTink, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, CClovesBA, Imzadi, Na'ir al Saif, philly cheese dude, katrin DKS, ashes at midnight, megagalvatron12, david Fishwick and Angellufy, wingster55 and najee79. I bow down to you all!

FYI, I'm still working out who goes with who, so there's a lot of room for change at the moment. I'm not really sure how it's all going to play out until it's written. So, no need for Spuffys or Bangels to start jumping to any conclusions yet. Like Yogi Berra said, it ain't over till its over. Also, I've been toying with the idea of adding in Kate Lockley, but I'm not sure how people feel about that, as she wasn't a very popular character in the Buffyverse. Wanna help me decide? Then visit my page and vote on the poll at the top!

Well, here's the latest chapter. Enjoy…

* * *

Bring Me to Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 19

Head-Trippin', Part II

* * *

**LA - About 20 blocks from the Hyperion Hotel**

**Now**

* * *

The vampire went careening backwards into a nearby dumpster as Connor's fist connected with its jaw, a bleeding man and his girlfriend trembling behind the male teen raised in Quor-toth.

Growling, the vampire slowly rose to its feet. "Kid, you have no idea how big a mistake you just made."

His patented sneer on his face, Connor primed himself for Round 2. "And you have no idea how much I don't give a damn."

To be honest, Connor hadn't actually intended to go on the hunt when he'd stormed out of the Hyperion half an hour ago. He'd only wanted some space and time to think. Dawn's perceived rejection had hurt even worse than when 'Cordelia' had spurned him in the past. He'd been angry, hurt, confused…making it a bad time to run into a pair of vampires twenty blocks north from the hotel, who were trying to feast on an unsuspecting couple on their way home.

A bad time, that is, for the vampires.

The one Connor had decked lunged at the super-powered teen, but Connor was too fast, leaping effortlessly over the vampire, then grabbing him by the scruff of his jacket, spinning him around and launching him headfirst into the alley wall.

The second one took advantage of Connor's distraction, grabbing him from behind in a bearhug and lifting him off the ground. Which was stupid of him, really, he should have gone straight for the throat. So in return, Connor shifted his weight and kicked upwards with both legs, taking advantage of the sudden shift of gravity by twisting his body and arm-dragging the vampire to the ground.

Connor kicked the soulless demon in the face for good measure, although it still managed to rise, groggily, to its feet. Both vamps then lunged at him simultaneously, hoping to get the better of their better-trained assailant by sheer numbers. But both had underestimated Connor's uncanny speed and inhuman agility, as the son of two vampires leapt up in the air and kicked both demons at the same time, knocking them both against opposite sides of the wall.

Connor was a whirlwind of rage and fury as he continued to pummel the vampires, hard punches and crushing kicks coming in wave after crashing wave upon his hapless adversaries. It was rather therapeutic, in fact, as any Slayer could have told him. At last, Connor staked the vampire beneath him -mercifully - before grabbing a nearby trash can lid and tossing it with supernatural speed and strength at the other one, attempting to flee for its life.

The sheer velocity of the lid meant the vampire was neatly decapitated, exploding into a cloud of dust; and good riddance to it.

Panting with excitement and aflame with battle fury and adrenaline, Connor barely acknowledged the couple that awkwardly thanked him for saving their lives, brushing past them and walking onwards through the alley, not unlike his biological father used to do in his early days in LA.

It may have helped a little with the anger. But the battle had done nothing to soothe Connor's wounded heart, for thoughts of Dawn and that kiss were still flickering around in his mind.

Damn it, he was so tired of being so angry and so conflicted all the time. Especially when it came to women. Thinking back on it, Connor had only known Sunny for a few hours after he'd arrived in this world, and she'd ended up dead.

Cordelia had only used him and played with his mind, and according to what he'd learned, she wasn't even the real deal after she returned from...wherever that place was.

And Dawn…she was supposed to be different. Maybe it was stupid of him to think so, but Connor had actually thought she was supposed to be the real thing, the one that understood him and accepted him for who and what he was. Instead, she'd turned out to be just like the rest of them.

None of it was real. None of it was anything that mattered, anything he could

hold on to. They were all the same.

That was the burden of being a vampire's son, he supposed. Angel's and Darla's offspring. All his bloodline had done was bring him pain, even before he was born.

_That's why I don't belong anywhere, or with anyone,_ he angrily mused. _Because freaks aren't supposed to be happy. Or love. Or kiss pretty girls like Dawn. Or know peace. Freaks are only supposed to fight, and hunt and kill and destroy. _

_And that's what I am_, Connor bitterly mulled. _A freak. No wonder why my __fa...why Holtz committed suicide, when he thought Angel might actually connect __with me. He must have thought to himself, 'the freak needs to be channeled back __to his original purpose. To kill the vampire who killed my family.'_

Infuriated, Connor's battle instincts went on overdrive, his senses extending to find any trace of more demons. Mostly, it was because he wanted to drown his heartache in the blood of violence. Connor knew he couldn't control the pain that a broken heart caused him. But he could definitely control his fists and feet, when he was beating down on the undead populace of Tinseltown.

He was traveling so fast that he didn't realize where he was, until he looked up - the abandoned train tracks to the far north of Francis Avenue and Rose Boulevard. Where the vacant bar formerly named North Hollywood Billiards was.

Normally, vacant bars wouldn't be a big deal. Unless, of course, they had been overrun by vampires during the Permanent Midnight and turned into their personal recreation spot. It was a perfect place to hear some tunes, hang with other vampires, and bring a few human victims to drain - the last place that nosey cops would come to look for missing persons.

The Fang Gang hadn't yet gotten around to clearing the place out of the vampire squatters, as they'd had bigger problems to deal with regarding the impending apocalypse.

Through his red veil of anger, a part of Connor realized that he should turn back right now. Too many vampires meant trouble - he'd learned that much during the Permanent Midnight. Without backup, walking in there would be suicide.

Yet the rest of the man formerly known as the Destroyer demanded more violence, yearned for more battle. His mind made up, Connor stalked towards the loud demon bar, ready for more lethal combat.

Not bothering to knock, Connor opted for explosively kicking down the front door, which buried the hapless vampire who stood watch there beneath it.

Connor's actions drew the immediate attention of all the bar patrons, the nearest being a group of vampires playing Kitten Poker, and a vampire at a table picking up his latest meal - an attractive, slim brunette that had disappeared off the streets on her way to a club two nights before - someone recently added to the menu of the bar.

The vampire had only begun to sink his fangs into the young woman's neck when Connor's stake - flung with deadly accuracy - pierced his chest, and a cloud of dust covered the screaming female.

In one motion, Connor grabbed her off the table and shoved her towards the door, barking 'Go!' as she wisely ran away.

Like wolves, every vampire in the bar bared their fangs at the boy, snarling menacingly, outraged at the human's audacity to come into their bar.

Connor merely smirked, tense for battle. "Sorry, guys. It's closing time."

And then he launched himself towards the soulless demons…

* * *

"_Connor_?" Dawn anxiously shouted as she, Faith and Spike made their way down the back alley that was Norris Lane.

Thus far, the mission had been going smoothly. No vampires had been encountered within the last few miles, although Spike suspected that had more to do with their missing, hormonal quarry than good luck.

Dawn's shouting was, however, doing them no favors in maintaining that luck.

"Con-_mmph_!" Dawn protested angrily as Faith's mouth covered her hand.

Annoyed, the dark-haired Slayer asked, "Li'l D, didn't Big Sis teach you anything while I was in the slammer? Shouting at night plus vampire territory equals death by huge blood loss. Think you can remember that?"

As Faith removed her hand, Dawn flushed with embarrassment. "Oh. Yeah. Right. Sorry..."

Faith sighed, now remembering why she hadn't wanted Dawn tagging along on this little adventure. Still, she could understand where the kid was coming from, or she supposed she could anyway. When she'd been Dawn's age, it was all just get some and then get gone.

Patting her on the back gingerly, Faith said, "Just keep it together, brat. We'll find your boyfriend."

Dawn glared at the older girl. "I'm not a brat, and he's not my-"

"Whatever! Just stop shouting, and maybe we can find Connor without letting every vamp between here and San Diego know we're coming," Faith waved her off.

"Might not take long, luv," Spike mused from the front, his nose actively tracing Connor's scent. "The Mini-Pouf wasn't too careful 'bout covering his tracks, I reckon. Scent's getting stronger. We should find him in no time-"

"Could you _please_ not call him that?" Dawn huffed in annoyance. Off Spike's confused glance Dawn said to him, "Mini-Pouf. I know what that means! 'Cause for the record, Spike, Connor's not gay. You're just making fun of Angel through his son. That's…what's the word Buffy used to use...? Right, projecting. That's it. You're projecting."

Spike's face soured, that last word sounding awfully close to what Darla had said about 'daddy issues' with his poncy Grandsire. "You want to give it a rest with that riff, Bit? You're lucky the Slayer and I even brought you along 'ere..."

He peeled back the hole in a wired door, making space for the two women to climb through before going under himself. "Connor's a stupid name, anyway," he groused.

Dawn looked annoyed all over again. "Right, because William is sooo much cooler."

Spike pointed warningly at her. "Watch it, Platelet. You're skatin' on thin ice, right now."

Dawn swallowed hard, realizing she might have overstepped her limits, and grew quiet.

Faith's eyes slid towards Spike quizzically as they kept walking, her Slayer-sense on the alert for danger. "What's up with that, anyway?"

Spike was puzzled. "What, mini-pouf? Well, I've always referred to Angel as the Big Pouf, or the Magnificent Pouf, 'cause one time we-"

"Not that," Faith shook her head, wanting to get THAT visual out of her mind straightaway. "Your name. All the stuff I read and heard about you, I never heard you called anything except Spike or William the Bloody. Now, unless there was a Mrs. the Bloody around jolly olde England back in the powdered wig days, I'm guessing that's not your real name."

Spike grew silent as memories, good and bad, of the human life he had lived - as a hopelessly clumsy, socially awkward and often-ridiculed English gentleman-poet - sifted through his head. "You'd guess right, luv."

"So, what's your real name?"

The former William Pratt was silent for a moment. "Doesn't matter now, does it? That name belongs to a bloke who's been dead for over a lifetime."

"Well, technically, he's undead, Blue Eyes," Faith lightly joked, as Dawn stared at her curiously.

"How 'bout you, pet?" Spike changed the subject. "Unless your parents followed that bloody 80's phase, you probably have a last name, too, I'd wager."

The tension in her body language was not lost on him as the brunette Slayer registered his words, her easy going grin slowly fading from her face. "Maybe I do."

Spike eyed her curiously. "Maybe? What, you forgot your own name?"

"Some things are worth forgetting," Faith softly murmured, a wave of bad memories washing over her: an absent jailbird father, cold apathy from a now-dead alcoholic mother, and the ache of loneliness that had followed her all her life - till her Watcher had finally found her, and gave her a life and a purpose she'd been lacking. And then she died, too, at the cruel hands, or hooves, of Kakistos.

"Oh, come off it, pet," Spike cajoled, although he understood it would be wise to tread lightly around what was an obviously sensitive subject for Faith. "If you show me yours…maybe I'll show you mine."

Off his charming and flirtatious remark, Faith gave him a slow-burning smile, yet shook her head. "Nuh-uh, handsome. You've gotta touch the right places first…then? Maybe I'll make the right sounds."

The heat of that invisible chemistry was once again radiating between both Faith and Spike as the ensouled vampire stepped closer to the dark-haired Slayer's personal space. Again, Dawn noticed it as she walked behind the two.

Spike's blue eyes were glinting with growing lust. He said to Faith, "So tell me, luv, the right places are…?"

With another smoldering smile, Faith leaned in close to his handsome face, bringing one solitary black-polished fingernail up to trace his well-angled features. Her breath, sweet and hot, was intoxicating to Spike's well-honed undead nose as she brought her face within a hair's breadth of his lips.

"Now that…" Faith slowly drawled, her dark eyes holding the British vampire in thrall, "…would be cheating."

She coyly smiled as she left one last lingering touch on his chin before the Chosen One turned her back on him and kept walking forward, her hips swaying back and forth.

Even as he allowed himself a brief chuckle, Spike's eyes were glued to the Boston girl's ass, watching the younger Slayer with intrigue and curiosity. He suddenly remembered a night in the Bronze, and a sinful promise to make him 'make him pop like warm champagne' …

Oh yeah, she was definitely not Buffy. And right now, he wasn't sure whether that was a bad thing or not.

Only one thing was certain, in Spike's mind - Faith was sure as hell leaving quite the impression on him, and in a big hurry.

As he looked to his left, Spike saw Dawn eyeing him accusingly, one perfect eyebrow arched questioningly.

"Eh? What's up, L'il Bit?" Spike demanded, he knew she'd learned that look from her sister.

Dawn folded her arms as she stared at Spike, letting her gaze trail downward.

"You tell me…Spike."

Her insinuation was not lost on Spike as he gruffly closed his duster around him, before resuming their trail. "If this is about Buffy, now's really not the time, luv. And where'd you learn that sort of talk, anyway?"

"My brain, last I checked," Dawn replied smartly.

"Speaking of brains, I thought you'd have more sense than to pine for one of Angel's offspring," Spike replied in kind.

Dawn gaped at the vampire, offended. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do I really have to explain it to you, Nibblet?" Spike pseudo-sighed with a knowing stare. "'Cause I've seen the way you've been lookin' at him lately, fancying the li'l nipper like the last Danish left in the box. And unless my nose is badly mistaken, I'd say you two were definitely playing a couple o' rounds of tonsil hockey 'fore he left the playpen."

Dawn's cheeks burned crimson red, causing Spike to smirk…and then to frown in disapproval at his own words. Despite the falling out he'd had with Dawn over the near-rape of Buffy last year, he was still very protective of the former Key, and the thought of her snogging with any teenage dirtbag - and especially one spawned by his windbag of a grandsire - caused many a violent thought to course through his mind.

"All I'm saying is, you're just asking for trouble mixin' it up with that sort," Spike said, getting back to the subject at hand. "If the kid's anything like his old man, it's not gonna end well. Kid's got issues, just like Angel. Trying to love one of them is like trying to fill up a black hole, like I'm sure Buffy could tell you."

"You don't even know Connor," Dawn retorted defensively. "He's been through a lot, you know! For anyone. He…he just needs someone he can talk to. Someone who understands him..." The youngest Summers trailed off, thinking about her own life - or rather the life that she knew wasn't real before two and a half years ago, because of the whole Key thing. "Someone who knows what it's like to not really belong, or not have anyone take you seriously because you're just a kid in their eyes. I…I get that."

Off her sad musings, Spike reached over and tenderly stroked Dawn's hair, the gesture bringing the former Key's attention back to her makeshift big brother.

"You belong, Nibblet," Spike replied way too tenderly for a vampire. "You always have. And if anyone says different, I'll snap their bloody necks for it."

Dawn chuckled, she had missed being able to connect with Spike like this. Things just hadn't been the same ever since she'd found out about…well, what had happened, or rather had almost happened, that night Xander had blurted out the truth whilst Dark Willow had been on the rampage.

"I…I'm glad you're here, Spike," Dawn smiled tentatively, deciding to put away the past.

Spike grinned. "So, we're friends again, Sparklette?"

"Promise not to try and rape my sister again?" she asked, sternly.

A flash of guilt and hurt flickered on his face, before Spike quickly concealed it with a smile. "Cross my heart, and 'ope not to get staked."

Relieved, Dawn smiled and allowed him to get closer to her as they continued to walk onwards…both of them oblivious to the fact that Faith, having overheard every word they'd said with her supernaturally acute hearing, was frowning.

The dark-haired Slayer was concerned about the mention of a rape attempt involving Spike. That was something she would have to find out more about later…

Spike, Faith and Dawn continued to trek forward until they reached the end of

Connor's trail…where Francis Avenue and Rose Boulevard met to form the cross where North Hollywood Billiards was.

Faith tensed as she spotted the bar. She and Wesley had hit up this place when they'd been searching for Angelus, during his rampage a few weeks ago. Frankly, she hadn't found it fun the first time, and going there again didn't appeal now.

"Spike," Faith said, a twinge of worry in her voice. "Dude, we gotta keep moving. We can't stay here long."

"I'm right there with you on that, luv," William the Bloody replied with equal consternation, sniffing the air. "Trouble is, Junior's scent leads right in there."

Faith shook her head in disbelief. "You've gotta be ****ing me. _North Hollywood Billiards_? The little punk decided to take a joyride in _there_? Is he totally stupid or what?"

"Well, he is the magnificent poof's kid 'n all, so chances are…yeah," Spike shrugged.

"What's North Hollywood Billiards?" a worried Dawn asked.

"Demon bar, Dawn. One of the more violent ones 'ere on the West Coast, as of late," Spike said, his sharp eyes checking the perimeter of the bar for any immediate threats. "Great place to hang out with B'ooritz demons, listen to some BB King, hold a few ritual sacrifices in the basement and chow down on kidnapped street urchins while having a beer or two."

"This place is bad news," Faith added, her eyes narrowing. "I was meaning to stop by and Molotov Cocktail the place after we got Angel's psycho half back under control, but after Willow stopped by, well, you know the rest."

Dawn gulped. "It's really that bad?"

"Yeah, Nibblet, it is," Spike grimly replied before turning back to face Faith. "If you've got any ideas how to play this, Slayer, I'm all ears. Thing is, I'm smelling a whole lot of me undead mates in there. The place is bloody crawling with vampires."

Faith sighed. This was the last place she wanted to be at with Buffy's kid sister in tow and Angel's kid having flown the roost. But she wasn't going back to the hotel without Connor, that much she promised herself earlier on.

"Alright, we're going in. But we can't leave Dawn outside," she said at last. "Too risky that some vamp is gonna make her a free Happy Meal. Little-D, get your stake out and make sure ya stay behind me and Spike at all times. Don't try to be a hero, but if one of those uglies in there gets past us, stake the crap out of it."

"Okay," Dawn answered, somewhat nervously as she clutched her stake protectively at her side.

At her obvious trepidation, Spike clutched her shoulder and gently squeezed it. "Don't worry, L'il Bit. If I see anything get within five feet of you, I'll rip its bloody throat out. I watch your back, remember?"

Dawn gave the platinum-haired vampire a small smile. "Yeah. And I'll watch yours, too."

Faith hid a small smile at this brief exhibition of Spike's gentle side, another one of those layers to the enigma that was William the Bloody peeled away for her to see. Who'd have thought he was good with kids?

Damn it, she had to focus. The way Slayers did, if they wanted to live.

"Okay, lady and gentlevamp," the latest incarnation of the Vampire Slayer said, checking the stake in her waistband one last time. "Let's move."

* * *

For those who have never entered into a melee brawl, it is key to remember one simple piece of advice - never enter a free-for-all all by yourself. Super-powers or not, it's a big mistake.

Connor was finding out why, roughly five minutes into the fight. For a while, he'd been doing very well - staking vampires left and right, tossing one over the bar, kicking and punching his way through the crowd in a furious blur and feeling very cathartic about it all.

Unfortunately, there was one advantage the vamps had that he didn't. Sheer numbers.

It seemed the more of them Connor staked or punched, the more of them kept coming, until at last, he was surrounded by a swarm of the undead, all snarling at him like a pack of feral dogs.

Yet, never one to back down from a fight, Connor welcomed the challenge as he threw himself into the left of the vampires, crashing into them with a powerful flying kick. He lashed out at two to the left of him, them backhanded another to his right. Dust flew everywhere...

But there were simply too many of them, and before he knew it, one vampire dove under him and took out his legs, and it all went downhill from there.

The vampires swarmed him, taking turns kicking the youth in the ribs, face and everywhere else. Connor could only groan as they roughly hauled him to his feet and pinned him to a nearby table, holding his arms and legs fast.

One of the larger vampires, the leader by the way he'd established himself, sauntered up to the pinned captive, leering.

"You're him, ain't cha? Angel's brat," the vampire smirked. "Heard of you. Angry emo kid looking for fights with the big bad vampires."

He suddenly backhanded Connor so hard that the teenage boy was seeing stars, his mouth trickling with blood from the split lip he suddenly sported.

"Yeah, I heard of you," the vampire continued, cracking his knuckles. "Little punk who thinks he can play hero, like his turncoat daddy. Should've brought him along, runt. Maybe we would've had more competition."

Connor, defiant to the end, spit out a stream of blood and saliva at the vampire. The vampire merely chuckled, then hauled back for another punch, one that would have penetrated the chest and cleaved Connor's heart in two…

…when the back door suddenly exploded off its hinges, kicked down by Spike. Flanked by Faith he led the way in, Dawn well guarded behind them.

The wild yellow eyes of the vampires suddenly veered towards the newcomers. Connor could barely believe it as he saw the cavalry - and Dawn - had arrived just in the nick of time.

Dawn's blue eyes widened in she saw Connor laying on the table, bloodied and tattered.

"Connor," she breathed in concern.

"Dawn…?" the youth croaked out in confusion.

A few of the vampires recognized the peroxide-blond male immediately. Black leather duster, the trademark bleached hair, the cocky strut…it had to be the infamous William the Bloody.

Spike offered the room one of his trademark smirks. "What's a matter then, lads? Thought you wanted some more competition? Well…"

With that, he slipped on his game face; fangs, ridges, leer and all. "Here we are now…"

Her eyes trained on the leader, Faith pulled out one of her stakes from her jean jacket, and sent it twirling in a blur towards the leader vampire, catching him full in the chest before he exploded into dust two seconds later.

To the shocked vampires who now understood what she was - the Slayer - Faith mockingly stretched out her arms in a bold invitation, a wild grin on her face as she drawled the words:

"Entertain us."

One of the vampires took her up on that invitation, boldly - or stupidly - charging the trio. Faith promptly decked him for his troubles, and effortlessly plunged her new stake down.

And then the real fight began...

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Angel's Room**

**Now**

* * *

Buffy had known this was coming, even as far back as when Willow had told her that the Scooby Gang was needed in LA.

She had seen it coming as Angel was unraveling his life story to her, only a few hours before. And she had felt it looming ever-so-closely, when Whistler had sprung the not-so-secret secret of her and Spike.

A... 'torrid affair', one might call it, and Whistler almost certainly had, after he'd brought Oz and Lindsey into this adventure.

Yet, as Angel closed the door to his bedroom and turned to face her as she leaned anxiously against the dresser on the other side of the room, Buffy knew she would be a liar if she said that she was even the slightest bit prepared for this moment - when she and Angel were finally going to see where things stood between them.

They were actually going to discuss her 'thing' with Spike…and whatever was going on between him and Cordelia.

Cordelia and Angel…just the sounding of those syllables together in her brain brought forth in Buffy the urge to tear something to pieces with her bare hands. Which was not a good impulse to have as Angel walked closer to her, closing the distance between them.

The silence between the two former lovers was utterly deafening as they stared at each other; clouded dark brown eyes meeting steely green-moss orbs. Neither giving an inch in the silent battle of wills.

"So," Buffy began coolly, trying to mask her own anxiety.

"So," Angel replied in his own eerily calm tone, despite the simmering emotions within his own soul.

Seeing as how he was clearly not willing to make the first move, Buffy - employing a classic Slayer strategy - decided to take the offensive. "So, I figure there's no point beating about the bush. How long have you been making eyes at Cordelia?"

Angel was clearly taken aback by that question. Then, as he remembered the not-so-subtle glances between his wretched grandchilde and the former center of his entire existence earlier on, the Irish-born vampire found the resolve he needed to answer Buffy in kind.

"Hopefully, not as long as you and Captain Peroxide have been doing the same thing," Angel fired back, coldly.

His fast reply instantly knocked Buffy off-balance, the petite blonde suddenly finding it hard to find the words to reply as her face flushed red.

Buffy's brief silence made Angel's mouth drop open in surprise, before he looked away morosely. "So…Whistler was right."

The hurt in his tone made Buffy want to instinctively go to him, to wrap her arms around his neck and whisper apologetic words into his neck. But she held fast. She wasn't the one who had decided to end things between them way back when, after all.

"Guess he was," she replied quietly.

Angel's eyes shot up back towards her, clouded with an emotion she couldn't identify. And it took all of Buffy's strength not to flinch at the intensity in those dark pools that were the window to the soul.

Angel chuckled wryly to himself - a sound that sent chills down the blonde Slayer's spine, as it sounded like something that would come out from Angelus's mouth - as he now realized something that he should have picked up on immediately from her arrival. "Guess that's why I can smell Spike's scent on you. Funny, really; there was a time I would've been quicker on the draw with that."

"It's not what you think," Buffy said quickly. A little too quickly, along with the missing words - not anymore.

Angel shook his head, another bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "I think you honestly don't want to know what I'm thinking right now."

Buffy's eyes widened, letting the implications of her ex-lover's statement hit home. And that was what she needed to propel her forward, almost right in his face.

"Then why the hell am I even here?" she snapped. "Wasn't that the whole point of this little get-together? To clear the air, figure out where we stand now?"

Every inch of Angel's body felt as if it was on fire as he glared malevolently at Buffy, standing only two feet way from him and her glaring back at him with the intensity that could make an erupting volcano look like a wet matchstick.

The air between the two supernatural warriors was practically rippling with unspoken emotions - anger, passion, jealousy - and that was just the short list.

"Fine," Angel replied, grittily. "So, tell me where we stand." He paused, remembering that while his life (or unlife, as the case may be) had been a complete roller-coaster over the last four years, Buffy's couldn't have been much easier. She was, after all, the Slayer. "Tell me what's happened to you, ever since the last time we talked."

Buffy sighed, wearily. These one-on-one confrontations with Angel had a way of draining her energy faster than any demon fight could. "Well," she replied with a humorless chuckle of her own. "I did say I owed you a life story."

Angel folded his arms patiently across his chest. "And I've got nothing to do for another hour or so."

So, Buffy began to tell her life's story since the last time they had seen each other - the night they had met somewhere in between LA and Sunnydale, after Willow had resurrected Buffy with the Urn of Osiris.

Angel had known how that soldier-boy, Riley whatever-his-name-was, had opted to skip out on Buffy, long before that. The thought both brought him relief and angered him, as he had never approved of the Iowan - and yet, if he'd stayed, maybe he wouldn't be smelling Spike's stink on Buffy right now.

The hell with it, Angel thought. I left her so that she could have a normal life. With a normal boyfriend. Instead, she wound up together with Spike? How could I have been so wrong? Was doing the right thing back then really the biggest mistake of my life?

Angel began to think it was, after he heard details that Buffy had omitted during their previous meeting. How the hellgod Glory had kidnapped Dawn - who was the Key needed to return to her own hellfire dimension, while destroying all of reality in the process. Buffy told him of the Scoobies' last stand against Glory and her minions, with the lives of her sister and all of the different realities out there at stake.

How she'd defeated Glory and saved her sister and the world, but at a very costly price - her gift to the world. Her own life…

Angel's throat clamped closed in emotion, the familiar guilt nearly overpowering him as he heard her tale. Buffy, his sweet, brave Buffy, had died in order to save the world - and where had he been? Off in another dimension to rescue Cordy from the demons in Pylea, too far away to help her when she'd needed him most of all.

It was like Willow telling him Buffy had died all over again, in a way.

Reading his emotions well, Buffy reached out to the vampire, clutching his hand. "Angel, don't. Please don't. We've been over this before; I told you, it wasn't your fault. You didn't know, and you weren't there..."

"I should have been," he croaked hollowly.

"Even if you had been there, what the hell could you have done?" Buffy asked, her tone soft but frank. "Angel, you never fought her. I did. So did Spike. Glory kicked both our asses without even breaking a sweat, she was…unbelievably strong. Too strong. She would have hurt you or worse, just like she did with Spike. Just to throw me off my game. And if that had happened, I…" She broke off, shuddering. "No. You had your battles, I had mine. And that was my fight, not yours."

Angel didn't buy it, though. The Powers had sent him visions of her in trouble before. Doyle had had one that Thanksgiving, and he'd gone back to Sunnydale at once when he'd been needed.

So why wouldn't the PTBs have sent one to Cordelia of Buffy battling a freaking hellgod, with all of reality as the prize? It just didn't add up; hell, even Wolfram & Hart should have known, what with all the seers they had on retainer. Surely the evil lawyers would have done something to take out Glory themselves, if she was such a big threat to their own scheduled apocalypse?

Unless somehow, that had all been part of this unborn Power's plan…

Angel shook off his own musings as Buffy told him of how she had been resurrected by Willow and the gang - in her own grave.

Something she'd conveniently forgotten to mention, the last time they'd talked.

For a moment, the vampire was so angry that he nearly crushed her hand, he was clenching it so tightly. How could her friends have been so stupid? Angel had seen a resurrection or two in his time, and if there was one cardinal rule to such spells, it was this - always leave the body in an open space. Raising a body within its coffin was defeating the whole purpose of the resurrection, unless you wanted the resurrected being to die of shock and fear.

"Angel," Buffy said loudly, shaking her hand in his iron grip. "Hand. Breaking!"

Realizing what he was doing, Angel abruptly let go of the blonde Slayer's hand, backing away from her as he tried to get a hold of himself.

Despite the pain in her hand, a part of Buffy soared in happiness at the thought that he still cared so much. When asked if she should continue, Angel briefly nodded, taking a moment to compose himself before settling down to listen to her story.

Buffy told her ex of how she'd barely had time to register what had happened before Giles had left, and she'd gotten saddled with the super-sized responsibilities of raising a rebellious sister, mounting bills - which forced her to sink to new levels of embarrassment and humiliation when she put on a cartoon cow hat and slung hash at the Doublemeat Palace - and the growing expectations of her friends for her to be the same old Buffy, to act as if they hadn't torn her soul out of Heaven and forced her to deal with a pain that no human being should ever have to bear.

Angel could relate, in a way. After his walk on the dark side hunting Darla and Drusilla, and dealing with Wolfram and Hart, not to mention Connor's disappearance and the boy's open hatred of him upon returning from Quor-toth, his friends had also expected him to be the same strong, fearless Champion he always had been.

God help him, but there were times when Angel wondered if things would be much easier in his unlife, without these damn mortals constantly nagging him with their worries and expectations.

But then, Angel felt almost immediately ashamed at the thought. His life would be much emptier without Cordy, and Wes and Gunn and Fred and Lorne. He had been alone for nearly a hundred years after the soul had been forced upon him, and those days were like a bad memory compared to the here and now. Even with an angry teenage son he barely knew or understood, Angel would not take back having Connor around for anything.

"Last year must have been tough for you," was the only comment Angel made.

"It wasn't the funnest time I've ever had," Buffy sighed. "I still about dream about Heaven, you know. I've never told this to anyone, but I think - I think my mom was there. And if it wasn't for Dawn, I might have..."

"Oh…Buffy," Angel trailed off, stunned and pained.

Stifling any tears that threatened to come, Buffy shook her head. She admitted to missing the peace and love and serenity of Paradise, but not that much. It was just hard to deal after Willow's black magick had forced her back into a life that was growing much harder and lonelier than she had remembered, one without her mom, or Angel, or Riley…and even without Giles, after he'd returned to England.

Apparently he had left so that she would stop drifting through life like a living zombie, and stop depending on him for doing the stuff she should have been doing herself. A stupid course of action, given the chaos Giles had found upon his return, but then hindsight is always 20-20.

Buffy sighed heavily, leaning back against the dresser. "I guess they weren't kidding about that whole 'The Slayer walks alone' thing," she laughed wryly. "It's been a long walk."

"And no one was there for you," Angel murmured. Guilt washed over him again, as the Champion chastised himself for not keeping in closer contact during that time.

Granted, he'd had his own drama at the time with Holtz and Darla's pregnancy, but for Buffy…he would have made the time. So, why didn't he?

Oh, right, because he was afraid. Because he was terrified that Buffy would have shut him out, tell him to leave her alone and to stop meddling in her life. Kinda like that time he'd come to Sunnydale, and thrown down with Riley. Angel didn't want to think that Buffy would have told him it really was over, if he'd shown up at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"No one was there for me?" Buffy said rhetorically, before she swallowed thickly. "Actually, someone was," she said quietly.

Angel's first thought was of Dawn, but when he realized where she was going with this, his lips tightened into a thin, hard line as sadness and guilt suddenly gave way to jealousy. "Spike," he quietly growled.

Buffy nodded. "It was…well, you remember I told you about him falling in love with me during the whole Glory thing, right?"

Angel nodded, thinking back to when Buffy had confided that information to him - that night following Joyce's funeral. It had taken all of his strength not to storm off and skin Spike alive for even looking at Buffy like that.

"Back then, we were becoming friends. He actually put his life on the line for Dawn and me. After I - came back, I needed someone to talk to after Giles left; I told him about me being in Heaven, and we started…connecting."

"But Spike wanted more than that," Angel said, knowing his wayward grandchilde all too well.

"He did," Buffy confirmed. "He made that part of it pretty clear even before I died, but I wasn't willing to go there. For a while, he couldn't handle it. Kept prodding and poking at the subject. You know how Spike is."

Boy did he ever, Angel realized with guilt. He was, after all, the Yoda to Spike's twisted version of Luke Skywalker during those first eighteen years together.

Drusilla may have sired him, but Angelus had made Spike into who and what he was, to Angel's everlasting regret.

"After Willow and the others brought me back - he was there. Spike was always just - there. One night, we kissed. Don't ask why, it involves a showtunes-lovin' demon who almost became my brother-in-law. And we kept on kissing after that."

Seeing the look on Angel's face Buffy quickly added, "He made me - feel something. Something other than that awful, sucking emptiness I was constantly living with. But eventually I told him it was over, and then one night - he actually hit me. And his chip didn't fry his brain, or anything. Spike said it was because I came back wrong. I…I think that was the kicker for me. The final straw I couldn't deal with. We spent the next half-hour beating the crap out of each other, then the building started falling down around us - one thing led to another, and then we…" Buffy trailed off, though Angel didn't need to be a detective to figure out the rest of the story.

He tensed, angrily. The repulsive mental images of Spike, _Spike_, and Buffy, together like that - Spike kissing Buffy's neck, clutching Buffy's breasts, Buffy moaning Spike's name…before Angel knew it, a piece of the reading table he had been gripping broke off in his hand, effortlessly.

"I hope you're insured," Buffy tried to break the tension with a weak joke, but the cold fury on Angel's face let her know that that wasn't the right thing to say at this point.

Sighing, she continued, "The next day, I swore it would never happen again. But it did, Spike was always there - he insisted that I was like him. A creature of the dark, and I belonged there with him. I hated it, and I hated him. But I kept coming back to him. It was…he was the only thing that made things hurt less. And I couldn't give that up. I wouldn't. I would have gone completely nuts if I did, what with everything else happening - including the Nerd Herd..."

Buffy's honesty did nothing to quell Angel's rage. In fact, the former Scourge of Europe was dangerously close to a full-scale meltdown. He had left Buffy unprotected to deal with the advances and mind games of a monster like Spike - a vampire after his alter-ego's own undead heart - and she had given in to his advances, because she was too hurt, too lonely, and too miserable to resist.

Because he hadn't been there for her.

Things hadn't been any easier for her friends, either, Buffy added, as she told him details of Dawn's kleptomania, and how Xander and Anya's wedding had fallen apart, which had led to Anya returning to her vengeance demon ways.

But the most dangerous tale of all was Willow's addiction to magicks, which had led to her nearly killing Dawn whilst on a scary magical high, losing and regaining Tara…only to lose her again forever when a gun-toting and vengeful Warren Mears, furious after Buffy had ruined his greatest scheme, had stormed the Summers home and fired four shots - intended for Buffy - one which tore Tara's insides out.

That nightmarish day had given birth to Dark Willow, a creature of grief, rage and primal power, who hadn't hesitated to flay Warren alive with her magicks.

Angel flinched at the thought of the cute, shy redhead he had known for years acting in a way that Angelus would have truly admired. He never would have thought her capable of such an act. But then Angel, more than anyone, knew how grief could drive someone to do the unthinkable - like to attempt to smother an old friend in a hospital bed, after he'd kidnapped your son.

But Willow didn't stop there, as her quest for vengeance brought her face to face with her own friends and nearly resulted in the destruction of the entire planet, until Xander had somehow managed to bring his oldest friend back from the brink of world destruction.

Angel breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that at least he could still rely on Buffy's White Knight to help save the world, whilst he'd been trapped at the bottom of the ocean. The boy had been and still was a pain in the ass, sure, but as an ally his help was often invaluable. A certain meeting with Angelus at Sunnydale General Hospital years ago was proof of that.

"So where was Spike during all this?" Angel suddenly asked, becoming aware that Buffy had neglected to mention his role during those events.

He could smell the nervousness off her as Buffy replied, "He'd left town by then. Before that, I, uh, broke it off with him. Permanently. After Riley and his wife briefly showed up, I realized that what Spike and I were doing wasn't good for either of us. He - well, Spike took it badly. Refused to accept that 'no' meant 'no'. One night, before Warren, I was out on patrol and I got hurt. I came home, tried to take a shower, wipe the blood off…and Spike was there."

If Angel's heart had been human, it would have skipped a beat at that moment.

"He tried to convince me to get back together with him, but I told him to go away. But he kept pushing. And then…" Buffy bravely sucked in a breath, the undead man opposite her hanging on her every word. "He…Spike tried to, uh, force the issue."

Angel felt as if he had been struck by a stake in his heart, the cold reality of her words sinking in. "He raped you."

Buffy shook her head vehemently. "NO! He tried to…but I kicked him off me, and then he ran away after realizing what he'd almost done. Then when Xander found me - no, never mind, let's not go there," Buffy said uncomfortably, recalling exactly what Harris had said and what he had threatened to do. "Basically, Spike disappeared. By the time we got around to visiting his crypt, he'd already left town; and we had Dark Willow to deal with then, anyway."

Angel ran a hard hand across his face as he processed what Buffy had told him. What Spike had done…had tried to do to the woman he loved. Images of a different kind filled his mind…Spike throwing Buffy to the ground, Spike clawing cold fingers against flawless tanned skin, grabbing at sacred regions he was not _ever_ allowed to touch, a teary-eyed and bleeding Buffy crying, begging helplessly for him to stop…

It was the last straw for him as Angel suddenly whirled and effortlessly punched a hole in the plastered wall, startling Buffy.

"Angel…" she started, only to be cut off by the vampire's low and angry growl. An animalistic sound that sent shivers down Buffy's spine.

"_He's ashes_," a scowling Angel uttered as he removed his hand, furiously pacing back and forth. "I should have dusted Spike a long time ago, I know that - but now, _no more excuses_. First, I'm gonna rip off his fingers, tear out his intestines and strangle him with them…"

"Angel," Buffy tried again.

"Then I'll yank out his eyes - no, wait, I'll leave his eyes in so he can see me rip off his arms and legs, then I'll take what's left of him out to the forest and bury a whole damn tree in his chest, and then I'll burn the ashes one-by-one with a magnifying glass…"

"Angel!" Buffy brought him back to reality as she grabbed his arm and forced him to face her. "You're overreacting. Nothing happened that night-"

"The hell it didn't. Stop making excuses for him," Angel growled, startling her again.

"I'm not!" Buffy said loudly, and the least bit angrily. "I'm not. But…after that, Spike went off to Africa…he went through some trials, there was some demon shaman in a cave or something. He never told me details, other than that he suffered a lot to get what he wanted. And when Spike came back…the next time I saw him, he had his soul back."

Angel froze, not knowing what to make of that. But the knowledge of his Grandchilde's new ensouled status did nothing to ebb his fury. Soul or not, what he'd tried to do to Buffy was unforgivable in Angel's book.

"When Xander and I found him, Spike was practically insane, talking about all the things he did…I felt like I was seeing you coming back from Hell all over again. He got a soul for me, Angel. I…I had to take care of him after I learned that. I felt responsible for him-"

"Buffy, you're not responsible for what happened to Spike, and I'm sure Xander of all people would have told you that," Angel replied sternly, as Buffy looked away. "Spike did what he did, that was his choice. Maybe he thought getting a soul like me would be enough to make you love him, then again - maybe not. But either way, there's only one person responsible for Spike, and that's Spike." He paused. "And Drusilla, I guess. She was his sire, and all."

Buffy smirked. "Right, because she's just chock-full-of-sanity, isn't she?"

"That's not the point, Buffy," Angel argued.

"Forget it, it's done, okay?" Buffy waved it off, huffily. "Anyway, I was just starting to get the hang of things, new gig at new Hellmouth High as a guidance counselor, and Willow had just come off her rehab with those Coven people in England who Giles took her to see. Things were finally getting…normal again." She sighed. "So, of course, that's when all hell broke loose."

"The First," Angel replied.

Buffy continued the tale, telling him of her dreams of Potential Slayers around the world being slaughtered one-by-one, while the Watchers Council had apparently been obliterated. How her small suburban home had become flooded with refugee Potentials from every corner of the earth, and she had been tasked with another great burden : turning a bunch of awkward teenage girls into an army that could face Bringers, über-vamps and the forces of darkness in order to save the world from the First Evil.

Angel took a long, hard look at the small blonde before him, registering her tired appearance, the weary look in her eyes for the first time. No wonder she looked so worn down. She literally had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Reaching out, he gently cupped one of her warm cheeks in his cool right hand. For a moment, Buffy closed her eyes as she savored the gentle coolness of his touch - long-denied, but never forgotten to her - against her skin. Just for a moment, she felt herself relax.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Angel said, his heavy brown eyes leaving no doubt of their sincerity.

"You're here now," Buffy replied softly. "That's what matters."

His brief smile was short-lived as she looked at him and frowned. "Alright, I've shown you mine, time for you to show me yours…what's going on between you and Cordy?"

Let it never be said that Buffy Summers wasn't full of surprises, because that question had thrown Angel for another loop.

"Cordy?" he nervously croaked.

Buffy eyed him with careful scrutiny. "Yes. Cordelia Chase. Xander's ex back in high school. Tall, brunette, currently evil downstairs…?"

Angel sighed, having dreaded this conversation for some time. But seeing the determined look in Buffy's face, he knew there was no backing out of this one. Not by a long shot.

"Angel, I'm waiting…" Buffy huffed, impatiently tapping her foot.

"Yeah, well, it's complicated," he shrugged.

"So simple it up for me," she shot back.

"Oh, it's never simple when it comes to Cordelia," the vampire chuckled, which earned him the evil eye from the Slayer. Swallowing hard, Angel continued, "It's not like it started immediately. You remember what she was like when she first came here to LA..."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "How could I possibly forget?"

"I guess things started to change after she got the visions, and I had my epiphany during the Darla thing," Angel said, recalling that dark time in his unlife. "The others were sort of taking me back in stride, but Cordy…she was really hurt by what I did. I wasn't a very nice guy around that time. So, I really had to work at it to get back on her good side. A little after that, we started…bonding more than ever before."

"How much more?" Buffy snapped.

"It wasn't like that, at least not back then," Angel insisted. "We just became a lot closer. Maybe it was because of the visions. She felt the pain of the people I was trying to help, connecting with them in a way I couldn't. I guess the job brought us closer together."

To say that Buffy was a little bit jealous was like saying the sun was a little bit hot as she clenched and unclenched her fists, wondering just what was going on between the pretty Seer and her handsome vampire ex-honey.

Angel swallowed. "After you…after Glory…I wasn't handling things well. Burying myself in cases, putting on a brave face for the team. Cordy saw through it, though. She helped me deal with it, deal with a world without you in it."

"And after I came back?"

"Nothing changed, at least not too much. You and I still couldn't be together, but I hadn't started thinking of her as more than a friend. Then Darla showed up. Then Connor was born, and Cordy stepped up in helping me take care of him. She was really good with him, when he was a baby…" He smiled a little at the memory of Cordelia fussing over and changing Connor's diapers. "I never would have imagined it."

Off his smile, Buffy felt insecurity creep up in her. "I could be good with kids," she retorted defensively. "I've been raising Dawn ever since Mom died, you know. A-and I got a B+ in Home & Careers in the baby assignment in 9th grade. Well, okay, D-, but that's only because the stupid janitor swept it away while stupid Bobby Rucker was trying to ask me to the Fall Dance, and I put the thing down just for a minute…"

"Buffy," Angel said, giving her a strange look. "You're doing that yammering thing again."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, go on," she blushed.

"Cordy left for a while, she'd found a new boyfriend, Groo. But after Connor was kidnapped," Angel pseudo-sighed as he recalled that bitter memory, "she was there. Again. She helped me get through that, too. After she disappeared and came back with amnesia, I was completely focused on trying to help her get her memories back. Then when she did - well, you know all about her and Connor, or at least what I thought was her and Connor."

"So?"

"So, I can't trust anything 'Cordelia' had said ever since her body came back from Up There. Buffy…I have no idea what Cordelia, the real Cordelia, truly feels for me - we never got the chance to talk that night Connor sent me to the bottom of the ocean. But the others think differently. Fred started it last year, but then everyone kept going on about kye-rumption or whatever, telling me that Cordelia and I were so perfectly suited for each other..."

"So, what, you just bought into it?" Buffy frowned. "You let your friends Yenta you into thinking Cordy was your dream girl? Gee, do you let them dress you in the morning, too?"

"Is that really any different to what you let happen with your friends, when they pushed you towards Mr. Perfect, the Soldier Boy?" Angel retorted, with none-too-subtle jealousy.

"This has nothing to do with Riley," Buffy shot back.

"Doesn't it?" Angel fired back mercilessly. "Don't think I didn't put together what happened there. Willow points you in his direction, Xander - in all his cheerleading glory - urges you on, a few dates and a parental approval later, you're proclaiming your love for him right in front of my face."

Buffy flushed red as the memory ran through her mind of her throwing Riley in Angel's face, after she came to LA years ago - chasing after Faith. To this day, Buffy still felt a bit guilty about that. Not that she had ever let Angel know that, of course.

"I only said that because I was angry, Angel," she said indignantly. "You were being all defensive of Faith after she pulled a Body Snatchers on me. How was I supposed to feel?"

"Well, how do you think I felt knowing that you were screwing some farm boy from Iowa you'd met just a few months after I left?" a glowering Angel stepped closer to her, old wounds reopening and bleeding together with the new ones. "Or better yet, how do you think I feel now knowing that for four months, you were sleeping with _Spike_?"

Buffy was so angry that she was trembling with rage. "Right, because hearing that you slept with Darla, and better yet, had a kid with her - the one thing I can't ever give you – that was such a treat for me? Or even better, that you were getting mushy over Cordy, _Cordy_, after your friends pushed you into it, ignoring what I was, what we were? Do I have to remind you who left who in a sewer before Senior Prom, so you could go play private dick in Hollywood?"

"You know damn well why I left, and that wasn't the reason why," Angel hissed, his voice teeming with emotion. "Buffy, there's not a moment gone by in these last few hard, lonely years where I didn't want to run to you and lose myself within you, to take comfort inside you, to let you fill me up with all your warmth, all your laughter, all your heart and soul. And I couldn't, because if I do that, I'll hurt you worse than you could possibly imagine."

"Imagine?" Buffy laughed, coldly. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me to see you walk away in that mist on Graduation Day? Without a word, without a goodbye, without even a '_Hey, glad you didn't die_!' I don't give a damn what excuses you try to shove in my face - I loved you so much, and you left me, Angel, you just turned around and you left like I never meant anything to you. And you have the nerve to get pissy over who I sleep with, after _you_ abandoned _me_?"

"_Yes_," Angel retorted heatedly, his eyes smoldering as he finally forced himself to tell the truth. "Because I _care_. Because I'll _always_ care. Because you deserve better than what you've settled for. And because no matter what happened with Darla, no matter what I thought I felt for Cordelia, no matter what I might have thought or seen or done, my heart always knew one truth: it's you, Buffy. You're the one. Always have been, always will be. Anything else, _anyone_ else…is just second-best."

Buffy was stunned speechless for a second, her mouth agape in awe and her mouth gone dry as she heard the words she longed to hear from his mouth for far too long.

Both Champion and Slayer took a moment to reflect on those words…

And then she was in his arms, her mouth crushing against his, as lips that longed for each other's touch for so long finally found each other.

Angel heard his brain telling him to stop, telling him to cease and desist before it was too late to turn back - but as he felt Buffy's strong legs wrap against his torso, felt his palms cup her firm ass as they fell forwards against the opposite wall, he couldn't think of anything else except that he needed to have Buffy's mouth attached to his.

What was he thinking, comparing Darla and Cordelia to this woman? Nothing and no one measured up to her. Period.

Buffy gasped in between heated kisses as she savored the feel, the taste of him. It had been so long, yet there were certain things about her first ever lover she could never forget. Her back arched and her mouth opened in pure pleasure, her brain turning to mush as she felt his mouth hungrily nape at her neck as her heart thundered madly against her bosom, feeling more alive in only two minutes under Angel's mouth than she had in more than two years.

"Angel…oh, God," Buffy breathed, lost in ecstasy as she ran her fingers through the back of his hair.

Equally lost in a state perilously close to perfect bliss, Angel murmured against her collarbone, "Buffy…you feel so…"

A knock on the door interrupted their passionate embrace, breaking them apart just as Angel began to pull up her sweater.

Panicked, Buffy began to pull her garments down taking a moment to smooth her hair out. Angel shot her an apologetic look - to which she offered a sweet smile - before he staked towards the door.

"_What_?" he tersely greeted the other person…a clueless, innocent Fred.

"Um, hey, I know you guys told me not to bother y'all unless it was time for the spell, but just so y'all know, it's time for the spell," the brunette shyly blushed.

Angel was surprised that an hour had flown by so quickly. "Oh, thanks, Fred."

"Um, and also…Connor's missing," Fred winced, knowing Angel wasn't going to take that news well.

"_What_?" Angel was immediately concerned, as was Buffy, the latter who quickly strode to Angel's side. "When?"

"Um, that would be about a half hour ago," Fred said. "But don't worry. Faith, Spike and Dawn went out to get him."

"_Dawn_?" the Slayer yelped. "You guys sent my _kid sister_ back out into the streets with _Faith_?"

"You sent _Spike_ after my _son_?" an incredulous Angel demanded.

Fred gulped. "Well, he couldn't have been gone long, so I'm sure they'll be back soon-"

Buffy angrily shook her head as she headed for the door. "When I get ahold of Dawn, she is USDA dead meat."

"Wait," Angel grabbed her shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"After my wayward, soon-to-be-chained-to-her-bedpost sister?" she retorted.

"Wait, Buffy, you can't leave! What about the spell?" Fred asked fretfully.

"It'll just have to wait," Buffy said dismissively.

"No, it can't! The ingredients are super-sensitive, Buffy. If we wait too long, they'll lose their potency. It'll take us days to find replacements," Fred explained.

"_Days_?" Buffy exclaimed. "Great, so what am I supposed to do now?"

"Go downstairs, and get ready for the spell," Angel told her as he hastily put on his trademark black leather duster. "I'll go find them."

"Uh, Angel, about that," she winced. "You, uh, might want to stick around, seeing as how with Faith and Spike gone, and Buffy about to go under, we're kinda in short supply of superhuman muscle?"

Angel looked conflicted as he weighed the options - leave his friends defenseless while they attempted to save Cordy, or leave his son's fate in Spike's hands.

"What do you want to do?" Buffy asked him.

Angel took a moment before he made up his mind. "He's my son, Buffy."

Buffy nodded in understanding. "Then you better hurry back."

"Will you be okay?" he asked in genuine concern.

She gave him one of her famous half-smiles. "I'm Buffy Summers. Of course I'll be okay."

Angel returned it with one of his own small smiles. "Good," he kissed her cheek without thinking, before he picked up a nearby broadsword. "I'll be back soon."

And with that, Angel quickly strode to the nearest window, climbing down the fire escape with a grace only he could muster as he went off to find his son and Dawn…leaving a flushed Buffy behind, tracing the mark where he had just kissed.

Fred raised her eyebrows at Buffy, a curious smirk on the pretty Texan's face. "So, what was that all about?"

Buffy offered Fred a tentative smile as they walked down the hall, a pensive look on her face. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Main Lobby**

**Now**

* * *

As Gunn, Lorne, Whistler and Xander finished lighting the black and red candles, while Giles and Anya lit incense sticks and Wesley and Andrew spread mystical sand in a large circle around the center of the lobby, Willow - ever the perfectionist - went over her checklist one last time.

"Okay, let's see. Three eyes of newt? Twelve dollars." Check. "Sacred sand blessed from the heart of the Mojave Desert? Two hundred dollars." Check. "Tongue of a black poodle? Ick…twenty dollars," she shuddered.

"Calamus root for enhancing dark magic? Ten dollars. Sheep's blood? Ten dollars. Ground-up Kraken tooth from the black magic black market, for conduit capability? Fifteen hundred dollars. Idol of Hypnos, the Greek God of Sleep? Two thousand dollars…" Willow trailed off, suddenly marveling how much all this had cost financially.

With a final nod, she glanced over at Xander and smiled. "Saving the life of an old friend from a nasty mystical Power-That-Can-Suck-It?"

Xander's eyes drifted to his still-unconscious (and now bruising) ex-girlfriend, smiling before he returned his gaze to Willow. "Priceless, yet worth every damn penny."

"Hell yeah," Gunn nodded as he and Xander exchanged looks of male solidarity.

"Um…so what's all this stuff supposed to be for again? A, a Hippo Soul spell?" a puzzled Andrew asked Wesley, his gross mispronunciation of the spell earning him a mordant glare from the former Watcher.

"That's Hypnos Soul-Seeking Spell," Wesley sighed, wearily. "It's an extremely ancient and very powerful spell, found only in the Bisylline Codex. It's supposed to act as a connection between souls in the dream state."

"So, it's like a sleeping spell?" Xander asked.

"No, not exactly," Giles replied as he finished lighting the last row of candles near the lobby's front desk. "Sleep is involved, yes - but the context is that in sleep, the-the soul of a person can enter the astral plane, or the ethereal plane of existence beyond the mortal realm, via sleep."

"Not just sleep, Giles," Willow added as she began grinding the mixed spell ingredients together with a mortar and pestle within a large granite bowl. "The astral plane can also be accessed through astral projection, meditation and mantra, near death experience, lucid dreaming, and a few other means."

"So, what's all that got to do with getting Cordy back?" Xander shrugged, puzzled.

Anya rolled her eyes at his naïveté. Were all mortals so short-sighted? "Well, duh! The astral plane is the realm of the planetary spheres, crossed by the soul in its astral body on the way to being born and after death, the place inhabited by angels, spirits or other immaterial beings."

Off Xander's confused stare, Anya dramatically oversimplified it: "Cordelia's-Soul-Stuck-In-_Biiiiig_-Floaty-Place."

Xander felt his temper begin to rise at Anya's dig. He suddenly remembered why he had given up trying to get back together with her, after that incident with D'Hoffryn and all those dead frat boys a few months ago. "Thank you, Ahn, for that stunningly well-thought out explanation."

"She's not wrong, Xander," Wesley interceded, sensing an ex-lover's quarrel coming and deciding to shut it down before it got started. "From what Whistler tells us, the rogue Power needed Cordelia's soul alive and intact to facilitate her possession, and eventually to give birth to itself."

"Yeah. Think of that broad's soul as a…an otherworldly telephone wire between this reality and the next," Whistler explained. "It's the tether that's binding the Power and the parasite to her body and to this world. Sever the link, and both go bye-bye."

"Hey, hold up: wouldn't that mean that Cordy's soul dies? Or – whatever?" a concerned Gunn asked, Xander visibly blanching at his words.

"No, not necessarily," Willow corrected. "When the Power possessed Cordelia, before it descended from that higher realm - it stashed her soul somewhere in the astral plane. The real Cordelia is stuck somewhere between this world, and that other one."

"Between life and death, you mean," Xander swallowed, worried beyond comprehension at the thought of Cordy's soul lost in cosmic limbo. Anya noticed it and glowered, wondering where these feelings were coming from - since as far as she knew, he hadn't seen or talked to the woman in ages.

Giles gave Harris a grave nod. "I'm afraid so. But, but if we can reestablish the dominance of Cordelia's soul within her own body by extracting it from the astral plane, we, uh, we should, in theory, be able to expel the Power and this cosmic parasite, which would, in effect, r-restore Cordelia to her normal state."

Off that, a relieved Xander smiled; an entrapped Skip glowered; and an insecure Anya frowned fiercely at the emotions her ex-fiancé was exhibiting.

"But...why do they have to go into her mind to do it?" Andrew asked cluelessly.

"Because Cordelia's mind and body is the gateway that'll lead to where her soul is," Wesley explained. "In dreams, her mind has access to the astral plane. And only through the mind in such a dream-state can Buffy and Darla find her soul there."

Gunn suddenly frowned, realizing there was something missing here. "So, what was the big deal with not letting Red do the spell earlier, if it's such a simple sleep-and-snatch like you're makin' it out to be?"

Giles, Willow and Wesley exchanged troubled glances between each other for a moment, something Xander didn't miss. Harris quipped, "Guys, it's no fun exorcizing evil spirits if you don't share!"

Giles sighed heavily before he admitted, "Unfortunately, there is a-a grave risk involved in performing this spell."

"Yeah. Emphasis on 'grave'," Willow frowned. "It's not exactly a sleeping spell, Xand. It puts the three individuals involved into a…a comatose state."

Lorne was thrown by the news. "Whoa - back it up second, cherry pie. Comatose?"

"As in, coma?" Xander yelped, incredulously. In his experience, comatose meant bad – Faith and Buffy had both had undergone such a thing, and the aftermath hadn't been pretty.

"It's the only way the spell can be conducted in order to appease Hypnos," Willow said. "A state of mind that comes as close to death as possible, the ultimate sleep."

"Can't this Hypnos guy just give you an A for effort?" Xander asked, not liking the idea of both of his best friends being placed in harm's way in the least.

Willow gave her lifelong best friend a deadpan stare. "This is dark magic we're talking about, Xander, so it really doesn't work that way. Remember what happened when we resurrected Buffy? You can't just pretend and hope that Hypnos doesn't notice what you're doing."

"So, what if something goes wrong?" Gunn asked, ignoring the chagrined look on Xander's face. "What's the worst case scenario here?"

Giles frowned. "Worst case, uh, if there's even the slightest disruption to their psychic link, the consequences could be…well, fatal. For all of them."

Lorne, Xander, Anya and Gunn exchanged concerned looks. Wesley, who had just finished pouring the sacred sand in a circle, did not appear happy about it, either. After all, Darla was one of the participants in this dangerously perilous spell.

"Of course," Xander nodded, with an angry chuckle. "Can't have a spell that doesn't involve everyone possibly dying in the fine print, after all. Where's the fun in that?"

"It'll be fine, Xander," Willow assured her friend with a small smile. "I can hold my own on the magical front. Darla seems like she's tough enough, and Buffy...well, she's Buffy."

"Oh, sure, it'll all be peaches and gravy," Skip sarcastically wisecracked from his red-hued prison, as everyone turned to face him. "By the way, Red - don't you think it's worthwhile mentioning the fact that out of the four times that spell has ever been done since it was created, the survival rate of the participants involved happens to be…hmm, let me think, a big fat zero?"

Off Xander's surprised and questioning stare, Willow gave a meek, yet optimistic shrug. "Well…um, yeah, there is that, but hey! There's always a first time for everything, right?"

"A zero percent success rate? People, not to be Nervous Nellie here, but are we really going to test out beating those odds?" a hesitant Lorne asked.

"We don't have a choice, Lorne, not if we want to save Cordelia's life and soul," Wesley grimly replied.

His hard eyes suddenly veered towards Angel's study, where the door opened to reveal a tense-looking Darla. His gaze softened slightly as he beheld the blond beauty's troubled gaze.

"Is everything all right?" Wes asked tentatively, as he approached her.

Darla gave him a small smile and nodded. "Everything's fine." Even though her lips were still warm from that kiss Lindsey stole from her moments before…a kiss that, loathe as she was to admit it, was actually pretty damn scorching hot. "Um, i-is everything ready to go with the spell?"

Wesley frowned at once. "Err, about that…do you mind if we speak for a moment? In private?"

His request surprised her, but off the concerned look in his eyes, Darla nodded in consent as Wesley led her quickly across the lobby of the hotel into another room.

Whistler exhaled in annoyance. What was with these humans and their priorities of romance over everything else, even the potential end of the world? It was a miracle the demons hadn't openly taken over years ago, what with the soap opera love lives these people had!

"Sure, take your time," the balance demon called out to the pair, as they closed the door behind them. "It's not like we're dealing with a **_freakin' apocalypse, here_**!"

"Did somebody say the 'A' word?" Buffy called as she and Fred came down the stairs.

Whistler noted the conspicuous absence of one major key player. "Speaking of 'A' words, blondie, where's Angel?"

"Out," Buffy replied briskly. "He went to find Connor and Dawn."

Then she turned accusing eyes towards Giles and said, "And thanks SO much for letting my grounded 16-year-old sister go off in downtown LA with Faith at a quarter to midnight, by the way. You didn't by any chance tell her to take candy from middle-aged guys who drive white vans, too, did ya?"

"Actually, she's almost 17-" Xander started to say before a sharp elbow to the ribs from Anya shut him up. "Will you quit doing that?" he demanded of her.

"It's the least you deserve for leaving me at the altar," Anya shot back in annoyance.

"Oh, God, are we back to that again? Geez, Ahn-"

"Did we ever really get past it? Xander, you humiliated me-"

"SHUT. UP! Both of you!" Buffy growled at the former couple, before turning her gaze back to her former father figure. "Well?"

Giles began backpedaling under the intense stare of his Slayer. "W-w-well, w-we all came to consensus that perhaps Dawn could perhaps, er, would…"

"Hey, whoa! I'm not taking the blame for this one, G-man," Xander shook his head at once; he was already deep enough in Buffy's bad books. "You're on your own, there."

The former Ripper threw Xander an annoyed glare. "Thank you so much for that, Xander," he bit out with a terse smile.

Not a moment later Oz came bounding down the stairs, four ornate Tarot cards in hand. The werewolf paused for a moment as he saw Willow, his brief, yet intense gaze speaking volumes to the witch - who stared back with a longing gaze of her own, before Oz shook it off and approached her with the cards.

"Brought the party favors," he quipped with a small smile.

A flustered Willow nodded. "Uh…yeah, thanks. Gotta have those."

As her fingers grazed his, Oz's lips parted open slightly, his fingers tingling at the all-too-brief contact with his beloved redhead.

No, not mine, Oz reminded himself as he strained to get ahold of his emotions. She's with that Kennedy chick now. She's hers…not mine.

He quickly let go, and Willow instantly missed the contact, fleeting as it was. Turning to place the cards in front of the bowl, her eyes met those of Buffy, who threw her one of those questioning glances that only best friends could read - a glance that said she wanted to know more about what had happened between her bestest bud and her werewolf ex.

Willow only gave her a half-smile and mouthed "Later" to the blonde Slayer, who nodded imperceptibly.

"Okay, hold up, sugar pie - I'm confused," Lorne asked Buffy. "I mean, short on muscle as we are, you sent Angel out on the town while we're dealing with an Exorcist Twist here?"

"I didn't send him anywhere. And it's his son we're talking about here, Lorne," Buffy sighed in annoyance. "Quite honestly, I'd be out there with him right now if I didn't have to get Cordy's astral what-cha-ma-hoozit out of That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named's paws."

"Aw, gosh; no big, bad Angel around?" Skip sneered, delighted at the news. "Gee, better hope this flimsy little cell doesn't give out. On account of I'm gonna kill you all when that happens."

A glowering Gunn grabbed his home-made axe from nearby, brandishing the deadly weapon in front of the metallic minion of the Beastmaster. "If I were you, spike head, I'd hope you don't get out, either. You wouldn't be the first demon I've chopped up into little pieces."

"Ooooh, I'm so scared," Skip mocked the glaring street fighter.

"Better be," Gunn spat, clutching his axe tightly.

"Can we forget about the demon silver spoon for a moment?" Buffy sighed, anxious to get the spell over with. "Xander, Giles, Anya, load up; I want you to give Angel's people all the backup they need. Andrew, keep a lookout at the door for Angel and the others. Wesley will be keeping an eye on the spell."

"So where do I fit in?" asked Lindsey, who suddenly made his appearance after exiting Angel's private office…with a noticeable limp, which Buffy paid no attention to.

The Slayer had her own misgivings about Lindsey. If he really had been with those Wolfram & Hart guys, that gave her no reason to trust him in the slightest. Still, with her about to go under and Angel, Spike, Dawn and Faith all out retrieving Connor, bodies were scarce and she needed all the help she could get.

"I guess you can help Wesley," Buffy sighed, before adding, "And on the off-chance that you decide to screw us over, just remember - we have more weapons that you."

Lindsey smirked. "No screwing, Goldilocks. You have my word on it."

Scowling at the unwelcome nickname Spike had bestowed on her last year, Buffy turned her attention to Willow, who looked set to go with the mojo. "Will, are you -"

"Oh, for Hecate's sake, Buff, yes! For the umpteenth time, yes, I can handle this," the redhead exclaimed, sick and tired of the concerns for her well-being. "I know it's risky, I know I'm still recovering from the addiction thing, and I am fully aware of the risks! But I'm already committed to this 100 percent, and I can't remain focused if you keep breathing down my neck about it, so just back off, okay?"

There was a beat of awkward silence as all eyes turned to Willow at her outburst.

"Actually…I was only about to ask if you were ready to rock," Buffy shrugged slightly, looking a little embarrassed.

"Oh," the Wiccan Wunderkind swallowed, sheepishly. "Well, uh, sorry. And…you bet."

"Good," Buffy smiled, before she turned to the others with a determined gleam in her eyes. "Then as soon as Darla gets here…let's kick some astral."

* * *

"When were you going to tell me? If ever?" Wesley asked, a note of tension in his otherwise calm voice shortly after he and Darla entered the room.

The blonde woman gave him a look, before turning away for a moment. "Truth be told, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but unfortunately..."

Wesley looked at the floor for a moment, before looking back up at the blonde beauty. He stared at her back, not quite sure what to say...he was only sure of what he felt.

"I don't want you to do this, Darla," Wes said, folding his arms. "It's too - the risks are too great..."

"Wesley, I don't want to do it either," Darla sighed as she returned his gaze at last. "But there's no other choice. It's either this or Cordelia's life - and soul."

"Then we'll find another way-" the ex-Watcher started to say, looking a bit more stubborn and adamant now.

"There isn't one, and you damn well know it, Wesley," Darla reminded him sharply. "Yes, there are risks involved, and yes, there's a lot of danger-"

"Danger? That would be a euphemism compared to what we're actually talking about," Wesley said, his eyes shining with concern, his voice grim. "This spell has had a zero percent success rate thus far. You could end up lost inside Cordelia's mind, suffer irreversible brain damage, left in a permanent catatonic state - you may die, Darla. Again. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I understand," Darla said, her voice now etched with determination. "But you have to understand that without this spell, Cordelia _will_ die...or end up a vegetable. Is that a price you're willing to pay, just so I can walk off scot-free?"

Wesley struggled to find the right words, before finally speaking. "No… no. Despite everything that's happened over the last year or so, Cordelia's like family to me… and I want to help her in any way possible, but…"

"But?" Darla asked sharply.

"But, I…I just...I don't want to see you in danger...I...the thought of it...makes me rather...ill." Wes paused before adding, "Violently ill, actually."

Darla smiled as she reached up and tenderly stroked the right side of his face, trailing her hand across the scruffy edges of his five o'clock shadow and upwards into a few strands of his hair. She looked into Wesley's eyes and saw his concern, his fear for her safety, plain and unmasked for her to see.

Few people had ever cared about Darla in her long lifespan, both as a human and a vampire. Angel had cared, but - not enough. They'd produced a son together, but having a child with someone didn't necessarily equate to 'happily ever after' territory.

To see this man, this handsome, yet hardened Englishman softening under her touch, out of fear for her well-being, warmed Darla's heart immensely.

Wesley shut his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel, the soft touch, the scent of her skin on his, an aroma like vanilla and traces of jasmine, burning every sense onto his memory. He wasn't used to warmth or tenderness anymore. It was a luxury that he couldn't afford, not these days.

Not after he'd gotten his throat slashed and all his friends had abandoned him, especially Fred.

But something about Darla now seemed to be able to melt Wesley's inner walls, tear down the barbed-wire fences he built around him, around his heart. Leaving him to stare in breathless marvel...and to want more.

"Wesley, I..." Darla paused briefly, before gently speaking. "It's something I have to do...in war, there are risks to be taken, and the bigger the risk-"

"The bigger the payoff, I know," Wesley said emptily. "I am British, you know. We invented classic war rhetoric."

"The stakes are too high for selfish personal feelings, Wesley," Darla reminded him. "For you, me, everyone on this entire planet...there are billions of lives in the balance. We can't afford to lose this battle."

"I know all that," Wesley said, as his eyes suddenly met Darla's blue-green orbs. "It's just that...I...I don't think I can...handle...losing you..."

Darla's eyes widened in amazement at his words. Wesley's breath caught in his throat before continuing, "I mean, I-I know we haven't...known each other all that long...maybe we don't really know each other at all, in some ways...and it's probably...foolish of me to say it, but-"

"Wesley?" Darla cut him off gently, as a strange spark caught her eyes.

"Yes...?" was all the British man could muster.

"Shut up," Darla said in a breathy whisper, and before either of them knew what was happening, Darla's lips moved forward and softly met his mouth.

At first, Wesley was so surprised that he didn't know what to do - until his brain finally registered that Darla, the woman he'd become completely and unashamedly besotted with in during so short a time, was now kissing him.

So he returned the favor, matching her gentle kiss with a tender pressing of his own lips to hers.

Darla's hands reached up and glided over his hair, softly grasping a few strands of his brown hair. Darla had no idea why she was doing what she was doing, other than it simply felt right. There was something in Wesley's eyes that now drew her to him like a magnet. And she felt as if she was being sucked in whole.

Wesley trailed a hand into Darla's own hair, softly brushing back the golden tresses of her head. There was no teasing, no games, only pure feeling, raw emotion as his free hand trailed alongside the back of her shirt, his tongue exploring the depths of Darla's mouth, tasting the sweet, inviting flavor of her lips, her teeth, her tongue, tasting of honey and sugar.

If anyone had mentioned Fred or Lindsey's names at that moment, both Wes and Darla would have never even noticed.

The kiss slowly became more passionate, more driven, as Darla let out a tiny moan, which made Wesley try to pull her in deeper into their embrace. He wanted every drop of her that she would give, to savor the sweetness of her breath for as long as he could, and more.

If there was one thing Wesley Wyndam-Pryce knew how to do, it was how to kiss. Lilah Morgan could have told you that. And Darla was finding out first-hand just how good a kisser he was, relishing the feel of him, the scent of his cologne, the flavor of his skin, never wanting to let go...

And then, of course, the click of the doorknob turning surprised them both, making Wes and Darla jump apart at once.

"Yo, Wes!" Gunn called out as his head came slightly through the door. "Are you guys done in here or what?"

Darla quickly brushed back a lock of hair from her face, looking away awkwardly at the walls. Wesley ran a hand over his flushed face as he looked at Darla, biting back his irritation, his frustration at the interruption of their unexpectedly passionate moment.

"I suppose so, Charles. What is it?" he asked as evenly as he could, despite the urge to scream at Gunn bubbling up from deep within him.

"We're just about ready to roll with that head-shrinkin' mojo. Thought I'd give y'all a heads-up," Gunn casually answered, completely oblivious to the tension within the room as the door was only slightly ajar and he hadn't made eye contact with Wesley and Darla.

"Uh...yes, right. Th-thank you, Gunn..." Darla replied shakily.

"Right. We'll...be right there," Wesley said, almost aloofly.

"O-kay," Gunn said, something in Wesley's voice caused his antennae to twitch. He then came fully into the room and looked at them, hard. "You two alright?"

"Fine," Darla spoke up, smiling falsely.

"Never better," Wesley nodded tersely.

Gunn nodded and stared at them suspiciously before he closed the door behind him, anxious to get back to his guardian duties.

Wesley returned his gaze back to Darla, who stared back at him now, almost shyly.

"I...forgive me, I should've locked the door..." he started to say.

"No, it's...I'm fine," Darla shook her head.

"Eh...perhaps..." was all Wesley could spit out.

Darla looked down at her hands, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well...I should..."

"Right...the spell," Wesley sighed, as he turned to grab the remaining supplies from the table. "Duty calls."

Both had moved towards the door, as Wesley turned the doorknob. The door was open about halfway when Darla turned to him.

Their eyes locked for the longest time, powerful urges and emotions coursing through them both.

"Wesley?" she asked softly, her eyes meeting his.

Wesley felt his breath catch at her stare before he responded. "Yes...Darla?"

"For what it's worth..." she smiled. "No one's ever kissed me like that before. Alive or undead," Darla admitted, her voice raspy and hesitant. She then turned and walked out first.

Wesley blinked, stunned at her words. His senses were still on fire, from her smell, her taste, the angelic sound of her voice, the softness of her touch, her skin...

"Gunn, after we finish this spell, I'm going to kill you for interrupting us...very, very, slowly," Pryce growled to himself before he finally left the room, only a few paces behind Darla.

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Lobby**

**A few minutes later**

* * *

It was finally showtime.

Within the center of the white-powdered circle, Willow made her final preparations. 'Cordelia' was in the center of the circle, bound and unconscious, with Darla and Buffy laying on either side of the possessed seer. Darla on the left, Buffy on the right.

As a concerned Fred nervously wrung her hands, Gunn placed a hand on her back, softly.

"It'll be okay," Gunn assured his ex-girlfriend, a small smile on his often-grim face. "You know that, right?"

Despite the uncertainty that surrounded the former couple nowadays, the pretty science whiz gave him a smile for his efforts. "Yeah."

Elsewhere in the room, to say that there was tension between Wesley and Lindsey was an understatement as they helped Willow prepare for the ritual. Wesley cast a cold scowl towards the ex-lawyer, who gave the former Watcher a disdainful smirk in return.

Willow groaned at the obvious pissing contest between those two. It's times like this I'm glad I play for the other team, she thought to herself absently.

By now, Kennedy had joined the ranks of the group in the lobby. As she saw Oz give her girlfriend a reassuring wink, which she rewarded him for with a beaming smile, the Potential Slayer felt herself tense up, eyeing the werewolf contemptuously. She could tell how this guy was attempting to move in on her territory, and didn't like it one bit.

"Okay, Will," Buffy muttered from the floor. "All systems go. Let's do this."

Off her nod, Willow lit the final candle and began reading the incantation from within the Codex:

_"Hypnos, God of Sleep,_

_Keeper of the Veil,_

_Watcher of the Gateway,_

_I am thy humble servant,_

_And I beseech thy guidance,_

_Let the veil be lifted for these three souls,_

_Let passage be granted through me, the magician_…"

With that, Willow lifted the Tarot card representing her and placed it in the bowl: the Magician, the card of the conduit.

"Unto these three…the Warrior…" For Buffy, she placed her card in the bowl: the Strength card, the card of power.

"…the Priestess…" for Darla, she placed her card within the bowl: the High Priestess card, the card of mystery and unlimited potential.

"…the Empress…" the final card was for Cordelia: the Empress card, the archetype card for the mother, the creator.

"_Lift the veil for these three, I ask of you,_

_From the many, let there be one,_

_From the scattered, let there be whole,_

_Open the way for these wayward, humble souls_…"

She dropped the still-burning match she'd been holding into the bowl, whose contents immediately caught fire. Within moments, a purple smoke arose from the ashes and the lights began to flicker within the hotel.

The others barely had time to brace themselves as a powerful, howling gust of wind suddenly blew through the hotel lobby, scattering papers, knocking over books and other objects to the floor.

Terrified, Anya clung for dear life to Xander as Gunn shielded a frightened Fred behind him and Lorne, Whistler and Lindsey clung to the staircase banister. Wesley was struggling to get a hold of his footing against the powerful blast.

"Is this supposed to happen?" a bewildered Kennedy shouted as she turned concerned eyes towards Willow…who stared, frozen, into the glowing indigo fire in sudden trepidation.

"Willow, you have to stop!" Kennedy shouted, panicking as bad memories surfaced in her mind – the night Buffy had been exchanged for a demon through a portal, and her girlfriend had sucked out her energy to fix the problem.

Sensing the redhead's hesitation, Oz summoned forth his talons to cling to the floor, forcing his way near the magic circle. "Willow!" he shouted. "You can do this! Don't stop now! If there's anyone who can do it, it's you. C'mon, Will, don't give up now!"

Her face suddenly filled with determination, Willow's eyes grew black as night as she held outstretched hands toward the flame.

"**_Great Hypnos, let what was hidden now be revealed,_**

**_Let what was closed, now open,_**

**_So mote it be,_**

**_So mote it be,_**

**_Hypnos, Show Us the Way! Now!_**

**_NOW!"_**

The fire suddenly leapt into Willow, but did not harm her; instead, it jetted outwards into three separate streams, each stream finding their three respective targets - Buffy, Darla and Cordelia - and passing into their foreheads, each of their eyes glowing a bright purple hue as the mystical energy passed through them…

…only for Buffy and Darla to shut their eyes peacefully as the wind died down around the lobby, normalcy returning to the hotel; at least for now.

The others gazed in awe at the scene before them as Willow, glowing bright purple, sat floating in the circle, a ring of purple light connecting her to the Slayer, the ex-vampire and the possessed seer.

"God damn. I think it worked," Giles uttered softly, marveling at the result.

"Atta girl, Will," Oz breathed in relief as he beheld the glowing Wicca safely floating in the magic circle.

"Is Willow going to be okay?" Xander asked worriedly, reminded of that day on Kingman's Bluff despite all his mental efforts not to.

"She's not in the astral plane, so she's not in any immediate danger," Wesley replied as he inched towards the circle.

"Indeed," Giles nodded, following his compatriot. "But we cannot interrupt her concentration for even the slightest second. Otherwise, we-we could end up killing them all."

"So what do we do now?" a concerned Fred asked.

"Nothing, I'm afraid," Giles sighed as he cast his eyes towards his sleeping Slayer. "This is a battle that only Buffy and Darla can fight. All we can do is stand guard, a-a-and hope for the best."

Whistler gave a small nod. "Not to worry, Watcher Man," he said, gazing fondly at Buffy. "If there's anybody here that can stay on balance when the world goes topsy-turvy, it's definitely the Blondie Menace."

* * *

Buffy's body hit the floor with a hard thud, as she groaned in pain.

"Ouchie," she grimaced, clutching her ribs. "Double ouchie!"

Buffy picked herself up off the floor, taking a look at her surroundings…which were nothing but dense, white-grey fog.

It was like walking through a really dirty cloud, it was so thick. Where the hell was she, anyway? Was this Cordelia's mind? And if it was, what was with the whole London fog theme?

There was nothing as far as the eye could see, not a trace of life…

"Boy, let it never be said that Cordy had a lot of cluttered thoughts," Buffy chuckled to herself, before she remembered that there was another person supposed to be here with her.

"Darla?" the Slayer called out into the pea soup-thick fog. "_Darla, where are you_?"

"Over here," came the raspy voice of the blonde ex-vampire, as she emerged from the fog close by.

The ominous entrance startled the Slayer for a moment before allowing herself to relax.

"Good," Buffy sighed, before looking around again at her mysterious surroundings. "Okay. Now 'here' is where, exactly?"

Darla, looking disconcerted herself, took in their foggy environment. "If I had to guess, I'd have to say that this is somewhere in Cordelia's mind…most likely the area where her thoughts connect to the astral plane."

Buffy fanned some of the fog away. "Either that, or we just walked into a cheesy music video."

"Not at all," a familiar, yet cold voice addressed them.

Both women whirled around to see 'Cordelia' coldly regarding them with an evil smile. "You just entered into the place where you're both about to die."

At that threat, Buffy and Darla turned to each other…and shrugged dispassionately.

"Been there," Buffy rolled her shoulders.

"Done that," Darla glared at the creature who'd manipulated her son and tried to make him into a murderer, as she settled into a fighting stance.

Getting into battle position, Buffy closed her fists and bared her teeth. "And you're about to join the club."

And with that, both blonde heroines lunged towards their laughing enemy…

…and yet, hit nothing but air as they phased right through their cackling adversary.

"Missed me," 'Cordelia' smirked, the Beastmaster indulging in a bit of cheesy gloating.

"Okay, Succu-bitch," an angry Buffy cracked her knuckles. "Round Two it is, then-"

"Buffy, wait!" Darla, as if sensing something, held out her hand, stopping the Slayer's incipient onslaught.

At that moment, the fog disappeared to reveal a cold, desolate wasteland. The sky above them began to darken and finally opened up to pour down heavy rainfall.

A confused Buffy was wigged at the sudden change in venue. "What the hell…?"

"Let me dumb it down so that you can understand me, you bottle-blonde necrophiliac," the Beastmaster grinned in sheer arrogance. "This might be Cordelia's mind, but this is my world you're in now. I control this whole mindscape. You don't go anywhere I don't want you to go, you don't do anything I don't want you to do. To borrow a phrase…I am God here."

"And as an added bonus, since we're doing this little 'bonding session'? While you're connected to Cordelia's mind…she's also connected to both of yours," the villainess gloated at the two glaring blondes. "Which means that I can see all your little secrets. All your dreams, all your fears…all of your darkest nightmares. And here I am with all this mind-warping power…"

"This should be fun," 'Cordelia' chuckled, her voice filled with sheer malice. "You two here, in my power...where your worst fears, your greatest nightmares...are about to come to life. Real, corporeal, bone-smashing, blood-curdling...life."

"Wow...pretty good eye for the vividry," Buffy shrugged. "Bones, blood-curdling...a little gross, but, hey, what else is there to do when you're an evil bitch intent on destroying the world? What better way to pass the time than make up icky adjectives?"

"Oh, you're laughing now, Slayer, but let's see how you laugh when you come face-to-face with your worst nightmare," the Beastmaster smiled sinisterly. "But just for starters, I think I'll start with someone you both have something in common with." She smiled with false sweetness. "Tootles."

She was gone in a flash of red light.

Darla and Buffy looked at each other, their faces full of confusion.

"What the hell did she mean by that?" Buffy asked in confusion.

Darla shook her head. "I don't know...but I'd rather not stick around here to find out. C'mon, let's get moving."

Buffy nodded, walking across the damp ground. She wouldn't admit it, but Cordelia...or whatever the hell that thing was...had caused her some alarm with her words.

Who exactly was this 'someone' she and Darla had something in common with?

She looked across the barren terrain that lay ahead, the nightmarish landscape that the Beastmaster had shaped Cordelia's mind into. Buffy shuddered at the sight: it was vista full of despair, desolation, gloom, hopelessness.

"Pay no attention to it," Darla said as she kept her pace even with Buffy's. "That thing inside Cordelia which gave the Beast its orders, it's altered everything we see here to try to throw us off our game. The dark sky, the rocks, the rain, everything. It's all designed to mess with our heads."

"Trying to psych us out, huh?" Buffy asked quietly.

"There's often no more powerful a weapon to use against your enemies than fear. Four centuries of experience talking here," Darla responded, almost as quietly. "I spread a lot of it around in my day."

Those words made Buffy think furiously as she glanced at the blonde walking next to her. Angel had told her some details of his, or rather, Angelus's relationship with Darla. The centuries-long travels together, their cutting a bloody swath throughout the Old World and places beyond. He had told her about Darla's hunting patterns, her tutelage of Angelus in the nature of cruelty, of sadism, of the art of torture, both physical and psychological.

Ever since Angel had...turned...all those years ago, Buffy spent some of her fleeting spare time reading up on the lore regarding Angelus and some of his more notable exploits. She shuddered to herself now, remembering some of the more gruesome details of his actions. Still, it wasn't like she needed some book to know just how truly evil the demon inside of her lover was.

Buffy had lived the damn books back in her junior year of high school, when Angelus had made Sunnydale into his violent playground for four months as he roamed free amongst men - thanks to her making Angel truly happy.

A chill ran up Buffy's spine as she recalled the twisted mind-games Angelus had played with her, using her own conflicted and confused emotions against her, making her doubt herself, her duty, her will while he stalked her and her friends. Even killing Ms. Calendar and Willow's fish, one to prevent getting himself cursed again and the other just 'cause he could.

Just the way Angelus had carried out his reign of terror - the calculation, the deliberation of his actions, it was so methodical and cold that it had frightened her then. It was made only worse because of her love for Angel, and the conflict that had arisen between protecting her friends and wanting to restore her beloved back to what he'd been.

There was no doubt in Buffy's mind that those were lessons Angelus had picked up from Darla, his sire. The teacher had passed on all she knew to the student, who'd ultimately surpassed her, even though he still owed his treacherous, murderous skills to her.

But there was much Buffy didn't know about Darla herself. Sired by the Master, turned Angel in an alleyway, yadda, yadda, yadda, but she didn't know Darla's mind like she knew Angel's. Or Angelus's, for that matter.

There was so much Buffy suddenly wanted to know about her. Maybe, she hoped, by understanding Darla better, she would in some way be able to better understand Angel. Hell, maybe even Spike. He and Drusilla had spent enough years together with Darla and Angelus in the 19th century, after all.

But there was still the issue of trust that needed to be established between them. Buffy knew that Darla and herself hadn't the best history together. And considering the less-than-friendly meeting between them earlier, developing that trust would be easier said than done.

"You and Angel, you mean," Buffy responded at last to Darla's last comment.

Darla shook her head. "Not the Angel you know."

"I get that," Buffy said, sighing. "But then, it's not like I haven't seen him in his Hannibal Lecter phase either."

"True," Darla nodded. "But there's still a lot you don't know about him. About his past, with and without the soul."

"Maybe I don't want to know those details," Buffy said, a slight hint of bitterness in her voice.

"No, I don't suppose you would," Darla said, shaking her head. "When I came back a few years ago, the second time I was human, I noticed how Angel has a tendency to become very touchy about some things...you being the prime example. Just like you're touchy about him."

Buffy halted her pace and whirled on Darla. "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

Darla sighed, brushing a lock of hair away from her fair face. "It means that when it comes to Angel, you tend to have a tunnel-vision of sorts. It's fine, even noble that you just want to focus on the man he is now, but I suspect that at times…you forget that there's also a vicious demon there, just beneath the surface."

"I've never forgotten that," Buffy answered her, even though before her 17th birthday, that had been a bare-faced lie. "Not that it's any of your business, though."

"Maybe it's not," Darla replied. "But haven't you ever wondered what it was that always drove Angel away from you? How the gears in his mind work to ultimately drive him to solitude, no matter how many friends he has? Or lovers, for that matter?"

"I don't need to understand what he doesn't want me to know about," Buffy replied, feeling her anger start to rise. "I..."

She broke off, swallowing. Her eyes averted Darla's gaze, looking to the ground.

"You love him, and that's all you need to understand," Darla finished for her, her voice as soft as her eyes.

Buffy looked back up at Darla, pursing her lips together, before nodding, her eyes sparkling with pain.

"I do love him," she softly replied. "More...more than anything, but...I don't know if that's enough anymore. If we...and then there's Spike to consider, th-there's...just so much..."

"There always is," Darla raised an eyebrow at Buffy. "It used to be so much simpler, didn't it? Remember that night I tried to shoot you with a gun, after feeding on your mother? You never used to give up so easily...especially not where Angel was concerned."

"What would you know?" Buffy snapped, disliking this trip down Memory Lane. "You don't even know me! You have no idea what Angel and I have been through."

"I know more than you think. Even if I can't remember everything I learned Up There after I became human for the third time, Angel and I have talked," Darla replied patiently. "Where I've been, I've gotten tabs on everything...I know what you've been through, and I know it was hard-"

"You don't KNOW...anything!" Buffy said testily. "I don't care how much you know or might think you know, but you don't know me, Darla, and you-"

"Tut-tut," a somewhat familiar male voice spoke up from the rear. "That's no way to speak to your elders, little girl."

At that voice, both women whipped around in an instant. And what their eyes fell upon sent a jolt of fear and terror coursing through the both of them.

For the person who had spoken to them had a powerful connection to their past...indeed, both their lives had ended because of the being now before them.

"After all, manners get you a long way in life...and in death."

Buffy's eyes widened and a powerful, almost-forgotten fear overtook her. It had been a long time since she had been afraid of anyone...as much as she felt afraid now.

"You..." she managed.

Darla took an instinctive step backwards. Her heart began to pound wildly, her knees starting to shake as she stared back into the blood-red eyes of the man...no, the soulless vampire...that in 1609 had taken her life...and so much more, away from her...

"It can't be," she gasped.

"But it is," the Master - in all his leather-swathed glory - chuckled darkly. "Darla...my dear one...I'm back."

* * *

To Be Continued…

* * *

**Next: Buffy and Darla have their hands full as they face down the Master and make their way through 'Cordelia's mind-maze. What…or whom… will they find at the end? And can they survive long enough to save the real Cordy?**

**Things get complicated as Faith, Spike, Connor and Dawn fight for their lives…and Angel discovers some unlikely allies in the sewers.**

**And the shocking return of two old enemies from Willow's past coming to bat for the First Evil's cause…one of them who's really made her skin crawl…**

**Well, that's all for now. Tune in next time, same Bat time, same Bat Channel. And as always, reviews are candy for the soul.**


	21. Part 19 Smells Like Team Spirit

A/N: Hey, gang! Guess who's back! By the way, thanks to my awesome beta, Starway Man, I've decided to make a few revisions in the story-some noticeable, some not so major. To see what I mean, re-read "Part 14- Guess Who's Comin' To Armageddon." There are just a few tweaks in the continuity, felt they were necessary for what I'm trying to set up later.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed including: thenight613, wingster55, CoffeeJunkie33, Baloer4eva, Sirona, jau0062, BlackQueen92, RebeccaAnne, teamtiva, MacKenzie Creations, angelplusbuffyequals4ever. Angellufy, erikax3, Lilly Emerald, EmeraldWings90, Prodigious-Singleton, megagalvatron12 (You fail me again, Starscream lol) ashes at midnight and David Fishwick. Yeah, you know you guys rock!

Well, here it is, you've waited all spring and summer long, so now sit back, grab some lemonade, get a Twix bar ready and enjoy the latest chapter of:

* * *

**Bring Me to Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 19 - Smells Like Team Spirit**

* * *

**Los Angeles - North Hollywood Billiards**

**Now**

* * *

Roughly a quarter of an hour before midnight, the classic song by Nirvana blared out from the beat up-old jukebox within the bar…

"_Load up on guns, bring your friends_

_It's fun to lose and to pretend_

_She's over bored, self-assured_

_Oh, no, I learned a dirty word..."_

…while a snarling vampire, thrown effortlessly by Faith the Vampire Slayer, crashed against the wall next to it, having only a fraction of a second to recover before Faith's stake found its mark, the vampire exploding into ashes.

Dawn watched in sheer awe as Spike and Faith went to work, cleaning house on the charging vampires.

"_Hello, Hello, Hello, How Low?_

_Hello, Hello, Hello, How Low?_

_Hello, Hello, Hello, How Low?_

_Hello, Hello, Hello_…"

Spike was certainly a sight to behold, as his fists and feet worked in a violent whirlwind - clubbing, socking, kicking, tossing and staking any soulless demon in sight. He clotheslined one vampire down with authority, kicked one sneaking up behind him in the kneecap without even glancing before staking it, and grabbed a hapless charging foe and flipped him onto the one he'd just leveled - before he plunged his stake into the first one, then stomped down hard to penetrate the sternum of the fallen demon below, both bloodsuckers instantly exploding into dust.

"Two-fer-one special," Spike smiled in evil fashion, still in his vampire game face. "Gotta love Friday nights..."

There was nothing overly fancy about his fighting style; no smooth elegance, no finesse which fighters such as Buffy or Angel possessed. Just brute force used with deadly effect, hitting hard, fast and without mercy or remorse. Spike was a killing machine, an engine of destruction, a Panzer tank set loose to run roughshod on the battlefield.

"How you holdin' up there, luv?" Spike called out to his attractive partner, as he backhanded another vampire across the room.

"Easy like peazy," Faith grunted in kind as she landed a powerful punch that knocked down one vampire before she dusted it, and then she flattened another bloodsucker with a fluid roundhouse kick before staking it.

Then the young woman effortlessly somersaulted over another one attempting to charge her. Dumbfounded, the vampire never had a chance to turn around as Faith impaled the soulless demon from behind, dismissing it with a flippant remark as it exploded into ashes: "_Pfft_…dumbass."

Dawn Summers didn't dare even to blink as she watched the dark-haired Slayer in action. It wasn't like how Buffy fought, although the influence of Rupert Giles's training was still evident to Dawn's inexpert eye. Faith fought with a supernatural grace and elegance that was captivating, yet with a wild edge, a lust for battle that made her both beautiful and terrifying.

A deadly flower, entrancing to behold and yet lethal to the touch.

For a timeless moment, Dawn wondered just how things might have gone two years ago if Faith, Connor, Spike and Buffy had all gone up against Glory at the top of their game.

During that moment, Connor managed to get free of his captors, getting his second wind as he promptly kicked one on the right, freeing his right wrist. With a flick of his hand, his stake launcher jutted out and the Miracle Child staked a vampire to his left. That rage and fury that spurred him on earlier was back in full-force, as Connor began pummelling the nearby vampires one by one with a barrage of furious blows and stakes.

The bar was awash in violence, blood and dust as the three supernatural warriors set about mowing down the pack of undead, the few smart ones opting to escape via the side doors while others tried, unsuccessfully, to test their mettle against the invaders.

"_With the lights out, it's less dangerous,_

_Here we are now, entertain us,_

_I'm so stupid, and contagious,_

_Here we are now, entertain us_…"

In the heat of battle, Connor - running mostly on adrenaline and ferocity, after the beating he'd sustained earlier - saw a lone vampire, wounded but still moving along the wall, wind his way past the horde of demons as he bypassed the embattled Faith and Spike…and set his sights on Dawn, who was too busy watching them fight to notice the imminent threat to her life.

"Dawn!" Connor shouted in warning, staking the vampire in his path as he moved in a blur of preternatural speed towards the dark-haired female teen.

Dawn's head whipped towards Connor, distracting her even further, giving the vampire enough opening to tackle the girl to the ground. Dawn shrieked as the lewdly grinning bloodsucker opened its jaws, lowering its fangs toward her jugular…

"_Get off her_!"

…only to be grabbed by the back of the collar of his coat by a snarling Connor, slammed headfirst against the wall, and abruptly staked by the teenage warrior, exploding in a plume of ashes.

"You okay?"

Wide-eyed and dumbfounded, Dawn stared up at her panting savior - Connor's forehead was glistening with sweat, his lips still red from the blood spurted thanks to the leader vampire's blow, his sinewy chest heaving up and down under the thin fabric of his red cotton shirt, his cobalt blue eyes hard with awareness and yet soft with concern for her at the same time.

Dawn couldn't help but to unconsciously lick her lips, completely and totally attracted to this 18-year-old boy. _Oh, wow_...

Nodding dumbly with a quiet "Uh-huh," she accepted Connor's hand as he lifted her off the floor.

Dawn barely had time to register how warm his palm felt before she spotted a vampire coming at them from behind with remarkable speed.

"_Behind you_!" Dawn shouted, suddenly remembering the stake she had clutched in her right hand before thrusting it forward, narrowly missing Connor and finding its mark on the vampire's exposed chest cavity. The soulless demon's momentum did the rest, impaling it neatly on the stake before it burst into ashes a second later.

Thunderstruck, Connor gaped at the long-haired, pretty brunette, amazed at how fast she had moved. And that she might have just saved his life.

"Sister of the Slayer, remember?" Dawn winked at him, grinning.

After flashing her a grin of his own, Connor moved to guard her flank as three other vampires approached.

"I'll cover you," the male teen told her, as he stared down the two to her left while she eyed the one on the right.

"Thanks," Dawn said, readying her stake for more action as the vampires charged.

The battle raged but the enemy numbers began to thin under the relentless assault of the four heroes, as the vampires who weren't dusted finally realized the odds were no longer in their favor and most of them began to run for the exits. Most...but not all.

Faith was busy mopping the floor clean - or rather, dusting it rotten with ashes - with about six vampires in the last three minutes. A well-aimed kick here, a stake to the heart there, heck it was almost routine. But they still kept coming.

Two rushed her from behind and tackled the Boston-born Slayer to the ground, drawing a cry of pain from her. Four others took advantage and began to dog-pile on Faith, kicking and stomping repeatedly at her, connecting with her still-healing ribs.

Dazed, she could only flail helplessly as one of them wrapped their hands around her throat and began to squeeze hard.

Suddenly Spike, who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, grabbed the offending vampire by the hair, hauling him off her.

"Now, that ain't playing nice, izzit, mate?" he growled, before Spike thrust the shaft of a pool cue he found deep into the vampire's chest, dusting it almost immediately, before he turned amber eyes towards the other vampires. "Bleedin' hell, if you tossers wanted to jump the lady's bones so bad, you could have at least bought her a drink before trying to slip her the…"

In a flash, he slashed the pool cue through the air, cracking the other five demons in the face, knocking three of them to the floor as the other two staggered back, dizzy.

"…shaft," Spike finished with satisfaction.

Effortlessly, Faith flipped up to her feet, her large doe eyes dark with rage as she nailed one of the still-standing demons with a flawless spinning roundhouse kick, then staking it before dispatching the other with wood to the heart.

Through the cloud of dust as she turning to her left, Faith saw an impressed Spike raise his eyebrows in approval.

"My hero," the Chosen One drawled with a sultry smile.

"Yeah, right. A knight in bloody armor, I am," Spike grinned, turning to face the other three vamps.

One of the three undead, a balding vampire wearing ripped jeans and a flannel shirt, snarled at the peroxide-blonde vampire, "So, the rumors are true! The great William the Bloody - turned traitor and siding with the stinking humans, like his GrandSire Angelus. Even hides behind a Slayer's skirt." He spat at the undead hero, getting a blob of spit on Spike's trademark leather duster. "_Pathetic_."

"_Ooh_, dude," Faith bared her teeth in a feral grin. "Them's _fightin'_ words."

Spike's eyes narrowed at the nearly-hairless vampire, before his lips set in a sinister smile. "Hope you enjoyed 'em, too, Cueball Head. Cause that's the last sentence you'll ever complete." He paused, disdainfully regarding the vampire. "From the looks of you? Prob'ly the _only_ sentence you've ever completed, at that."

Enraged, Baldy charged at Spike. But the self-proclaimed "Big Bad" merely smirked condescendingly at his foe as he easily evaded the soulless demon's attempted blows, Spike's century-plus of honed combat skills helping him anticipate each brutish attack of his balding adversary.

After growing bored, Spike grabbed him by the shirt and headbutted him, cracking his jaw with a crushing uppercut then kicking him backwards, giving the newly-souled vampire the time to spin around, his black duster swirling around him like a cape, and drive the pool cue straight through his enemy's heart, dusting him.

The remaining two vamps stared in dread at the former rogue Slayer and the second most feared vampire on the planet, who were eying them like tigers staring at two bloody pieces of gazelle meat.

A beat, which was followed by Faith's cocky, yet intimidating, "Boo!"

Startled, the vamps turned tail and ran. Not one to let them get away just like that, Faith picked up two pieces of jagged wood from a shattered table she had thrown a vamp through and sent them whizzing through the air. Supernatural precision and accuracy did the rest, as the vamps exploded into ashes.

"Hell of a lot of bloodsuckers here tonight," Faith noted to Spike as she resumed her assault on two more escaping vampires.

"Wings Night, I'd reckon," Spike explained, as he focused on two targets of his own. "First hundred vamps in get 'em at half-price. Who'd pass that up in _this_ town?"

Off Faith's confused glance, Spike shrugged his shoulders. "It's the 21st century, luv. Vamps don't live off blood alone, you know. We're progressive now."

Faith rolled her eyes at the image of a chicken wings-munching Spike as she worked back-to-back with the second vampire-with-a-soul while they went to work reducing the bloodsucking populace within the bar.

Approximately six minutes, ten broken chairs, seven shattered tables, two cleaved pool tables, twenty-seven stakes-to-the heart and five decapitations later, North Hollywood Billiards resembled the Sahara Desert: dirty, dusty, empty and eerily quiet.

In the wake of the carnage, the four white hats looked around the desolate bar, proudly admiring their handiwork.

Faith grinned as she glibly shouted across the now empty bar, "Last call!"

Off Spike's odd look, Faith casually shrugged. "What? I've always wanted to say that."

Dawn gave Connor a look of concern. "Are you okay?"

Nodding briefly, Connor stared at her in amazement. "You came for me?"

"Well, duh," Dawn replied, before she angrily punched him in the arm. "_Jerk_!"

"_Ow_!" Connor rubbed his arm tenderly, before glaring at her. "What was _that_ for?"

"How about bailing on me while we were in the middle of a conversation, dumbass?" Dawn glared just as angrily at the male teenager, as she raised her left hand and ticked off a finger for each transgression. "Not to mention, hurting my feelings? Running away in the middle of the night to go demon bar-fighting? Making me worry that something was going to happen to you, because of me? Should I go on?"

That unpleasant conversation from earlier in the evening ran through Connor's mind, causing him to scowl. "What do you care?" he muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth as he began walking away from Dawn.

Shocked and even angrier than before, Dawn grabbed Connor's arm hard, spinning him around to face her. "_Hey_! I nearly got my jugular turned into a open fountain for you, you…asshole! On the one-to-ten scale of the 'I-Give-A-Crap' meter, I'd say that puts me right through the friggin' roof - at one hundred and one, or thereabouts!"

Faith watched in curiosity, as Connor's cold scowl clashed with the heated blue-eyed death glare that Dawn levelled at him in return. For a moment, she was reminded of a certain broody vampire and a feisty blonde Slayer…

"Well, sorry I was such an inconvenience to you," Connor spat, sarcastically.

Dawn's fists clenched, as she fought the urge to slap that sneer right off his irritatingly perfect face. "Mister, you are _so_ cruisin' for a bruisin', you know that?"

"Seriously, why'd you even bother?" Connor continued, hurt slipping into that hardened blue-eyed stare of his. "You made your feelings about me perfectly clear in the hotel -"

"What, when I _kissed_ you?" Dawn interrupted in disbelief.

"No, when you said you didn't want to be with me because of what happened with Cordelia," Connor retorted with a glower. "Because of the baby, or - whatever that thing inside her is. You found out something about my past that you didn't like, and you decided that you wanted to stay away from me. But guess what? I can't change who I am or what I've done, Dawn! I am who I am, and if you can't handle that -"

"Hold it right there!" Dawn all but shouted at him, her pretty features curled into an unbecoming scowl. "I never said that I wanted you to stay away from me, you idiot! And I never told you that it was because of the baby thing -"

"You didn't have to," Connor muttered as he interrupted her this time.

"_I'm. Not. Finished_," the angry former Key ground out, as she jabbed her index finger into the boy's solid chest with every word for emphasis. "You had your chance to rant, Boy Wonder - but now it's _my_ turn. And I'm here to tell you that if you had bothered to let me finish earlier, you would have heard the part about me saying that there was an apocalypse going on, about me being scared to move too fast. I've never had so much going on in my life at one time, Connor, so excuse me for being a little panicked! I can handle falling for a guy, and I've handled an apocalypse or two in my day, but not both at the same time! I'm only sixteen - okay, seventeen in a few months - so excuse me for being a little scared of all of this happening so fast and at the same time!"

Connor opened his mouth, but Dawn kept going, "Shut up! I'm not done yet. Look, maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction on my part, but I've had a little time to think about things on the way here to save your sorry butt. And I'm telling you, I officially don't care about your...your 'thing' with Cordelia, or whatever's possessing her. I don't care about the baby, I don't even care that you've obviously got your share of issues...although I probably would, too, if I grew up in some creepy hell-place like you did.

"What I _do_ care about is the fact that you hurt my feelings when you just shut me out like that, the last time we talked. I've had to deal with that sort of thing my whole life, Connor. From my parents, my sister, Buffy's friends, everyone. And if you think I'm going to take it from you, just because you're seriously cute and have that sexy 'broody superhero' thing working for you, then you've got another thing coming, mister!

"So don't you _ever_ bail on me when I'm talking to you again. If anything, it's your job to chase after me after _I_ bail on _you_! That's how this relationship is gonna work. And if you don't like it, just leave. Again. But don't think that I'm going to chase after you again, because what happened tonight is strictly just a one-time deal!"

As the male teenager stared wide-eyed at the beautiful, yet angrily panting girl before him, Connor's lips suddenly twitched as he focused in on one word. "Relationship…?"

Realizing her slip, Dawn decided to roll her eyes as she looked at Connor poignantly. "Yeah, dummy. _Relationship_. As in, I'm your girlfriend, and you're my boyfriend. But if you ever hurt me like that again, I'll dump your ass faster than it takes for Buffy to snatch up the first pair of Jimmy Choo's at a shoe sale. We clear on that?"

Connor couldn't stop his lips from curving upwards in a smile, as a warm feeling of hope spread through his chest. "I'd be crazy to say no to you, wouldn't I?"

"Darn tootin'," Dawn said as her glare softened into a lovely smile, her hands reaching up to his shoulders. "Now shut up and come get your reward for saving my life…boyfriend."

Both teens couldn't help but to smile as their lips made contact, arms wrapping around one another and their kissing was about to become a lot more intense when…

"_**Ahem**_," Spike cleared his throat gruffly.

The Key and the Destroyer broke apart, both blushing as they remembered that they were not alone, their eyes registering a smiling Faith and a scowling Spike.

"Hands where I can see 'em, Peaches The Next Generation," Spike threatened Connor from his spot next to Faith. "Unless you fancy me ripping them off of you, touching the Nibblet like that."

Connor returned the undead man's scowl with one of his own. "I'd like to see you try, Blood Boy."

"Would ya, now?" Spike smirked as he and Connor took predatory steps towards each other, only for Faith to step between them.

"Hey, back off, _both_ of you," Faith said, turning her eyes to Connor. "Look, if you want to make out with your girlfriend, wait until after we get you back to the hotel, kiddo," she said. "Meanwhile, let's check out this place and free whoever's locked up in the pens for appetizers. I don't want any innocent bystanders around when we torch this dump."

Connor never took his eyes off a still-smirking Spike as he nodded. "Fine."

After heading downstairs and freeing the pitifully few surviving prisoners, many of them young women in their twenties, and herding them out the back door, Spike, Faith and the two teens went back upstairs and took a look around the empty bar.

"That everyone?" Faith asked Spike, who sniffed the air for any traces of life.

"Just us, dust and all that bloody alcohol," Spike replied, as he looked to the stacks of liquor and beer bottles behind the bar.

Faith grinned wickedly as she took out her skull Zippo lighter. "So many flammables. What's a girl to do?"

Spike caught on, returning her grin with another sinister smile. "Love your way of thinkin', pet." He turned to the two teens. "C'mon, you two. It's time to get your firebug's degree in arson, courtesy of Spike's School of Hard Knocks."

With nothing else to be said they all besieged the bar, tossing dozens of liquor bottles against walls, spilling their contents over broken tables and chairs, and all over the wooden floors of the demonic establishment. No bottle was spared, no corner unstained as the bar began to stink of a variety of alcohol and some otherworldly mixtures.

Dawn covered her nose. "Wow. That really reeks."

"Yeah, isn't it great?" Faith grinned in anticipation. "Now, here comes the fun part."

"Right-o, love," Spike smirked as he drew out a cigarette and put it to his mouth. "If you'll do the honors…"

With that, Faith flicked her thumb across the cover of the lighter, clicking it back, and letting loose a small jet of fire that illuminated her face in an eerie orange glow. Reaching across, she held the lighter out to Spike, who grazed the end of his cigarette into the flame, and began taking a deep, satisfying puff of the cancer stick.

Spike paused for a moment, taking a look at both Connor and Dawn - who were watching him intently. "Just remember, kiddies," he said in a lecturing tone, wagging the cigarette in front of him as if he was an annoyed schoolteacher. "Smoking is bad for you."

With that, the second-ever vampire with a soul casually flicked the still-lit cigarette behind him onto the alcohol-soaked wooden floors…and within moments, the fire that ignited began to spread across the bar.

"Come on, let's hit the road," Faith said, taking one last look at the burning bar. "Looks to me like LA's wildest demon bar is goin' out in a blaze of glory."

With that, the quartet exited the establishment via the front door before the flames grew too wild, making their way outside.

"Think that was enough to burn the place down?" Connor asked Faith.

He quickly received his answer when the flames began shooting out of the windows of the bar, the roof suddenly igniting as the entire building began to light up like a Roman candle.

"Yeah, I think it did the trick," Faith grinned in satisfaction, the group spinning on its heels to head back to the safety of the hotel. "See? Easy as…"

Faith's declaration of victory was cut off as she spotted a swarm of vampires, attracted by the fire, making their way towards her. To their right, another dozen vamps dropped down from the fire escapes…to her left, another group approached.

All snarling. All hungry. All headed straight for the four white hats.

"…crap," Faith murmured. She turned to Spike. "Body count?"

"A little north of two dozen, I'd wager," Spike replied, his body tensing for instant response, be it fight or flight.

His eyes grim, yet his lips drawn into a determined line, Connor pulled out a stake. "I say we take 'em."

"And I say, 'You're an idiot,'" Spike brusquely retorted. "There's too many of them for us."

"Spike's right, there's no way we can take 'em all after that last throwdown. I'm still needing a moment to catch my breath," Faith nodded.

"I don't think they'll be too happy to oblige ya on that, Doe Eyes," Spike said warningly as the vamps began closing the distance fast.

Dawn turned frightened eyes to Spike. "What do we do?"

Eying the empty alleyway behind them, Spike knew they only had one chance to survive this. "Run. Head for the back o' the alley, there's a sewer hole in there somewhere. Go, now!"

The four heroes turned swiftly and sprinted to the alley, the snarling vampires hot on their heels behind them…

* * *

**Los Angeles - an alley six blocks from North Hollywood Billiards**

**Now**

* * *

As all the clocks finally struck the midnight hour, a furious Angel slammed the head of a soulless vampire right into the brick wall of the alley.

"I'll ask again," the ensouled vampire demanded, holding a fistful of the demon's hair in his powerful left hand, his right one clutching a stake. "I'm looking for my son. _Where. Is. He_?"

"Hey, I-I didn't know that was your kid, Angel," the dazed vampire stammered, even though that was a bare-faced lie. "I swear on my own grave, man…"

"Not what I'm asking you," Angel growled. "Now in the next five seconds, I'm getting one of two things out of you: a location, or your ashes. Your choice, friend."

"Alright, alright," the vampire coughed. "That crazy offspring of your came into North Hollywood Billiards a little while ago. Started tearing up the place, and a couple of us started roughing him up a little…"

Angel shoved his captive's head further into the wall for that comment.

"…b-b-b-but then this Slayer chick - dark hair, leather, a real hottie - showed up with some teenage girl and a guy who looked like he was William the Bloody!" the bloodsucker yelped.

Angel's scowl deepened at the mention of Spike's alias, Buffy's words about his past rape attempt echoing in his brain. _No, not now. There'll be time for that later. Focus!_

"Myself, I bolted as soon as they started dusting everyone in sight," the soulless vampire continued on. "And I swear, that's all I know. If you hurry, you can probably catch them there now."

After a beat, Angel decided that this canary had sung everything his little undead heart could muster. "Thanks."

The vampire looked up at Angel, demonic yellow eyes lighting with hope. "So, you're gonna let me go now?"

"No," Angel replied before he shoved the stake through the sycophantic vampire's chest, a cloud of ashes exploding all over the Champion as he swiftly walked toward the bar's location. "Just being polite, is all."

* * *

**The alleyway near North Hollywood Billiards**

**The same time**

* * *

The four heroes sprinted through the alleyway, climbing over metallic chain link fences and discarded trash cans, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the pursuing vampires as possible while searching for the sewer entrance.

They had managed to put some distance between themselves and the undead pack, but not much and not for much longer.

"Thataway," Spike pointed towards the left. "There's a manhole that'll lead to a few blocks south of Angel's hotel."

"Too far," Connor replied, eying a sewer hole in the alley to the right. "_That_ one should take us right behind the hotel."

"Forget it, kid," Spike shook his head. "I don't trust routes I haven't tested meself."

"This isn't your turf, leech," Connor snapped. "I've used the sewers all the time in the last few months. I know them all by heart."

"Like a good little rat, ya mean?" Spike baited the boy, who looked ready to pounce on him.

"Enough!" Faith shouted as she held Connor back, looking at him directly in the eyes. "You sure about this, Junior?"

Connor nodded, his voice confident. "Positive."

Faith sighed. "Okay. We're going with the kid's route." As Spike looked ready to protest, Faith waved her hand. "Not now, Spike!"

"Fine. But don't say I didn't bloody well warn you," Spike muttered, knowing in his undead bones that this wasn't going to work out well.

Dawn saw the swarm of shadows rounding the corner. "They're coming!" she shouted.

At that, Faith nodded to Connor. "Do your thing, kid."

"And stop calling me 'kid,'" Connor growled as he popped open the sewer lid. Faith leapt in first, followed by Dawn, then Spike, leaving Connor to jump in last, closing the lid behind him.

"Think we lost them?" Faith asked Spike, who shook his head.

"Not likely," he replied grimly. "They can track us by scent, odds are they'll be down here after us in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Our best bet is to move, fast as we bloody well can..."

The overwhelming stench of the sewer was enough to make Dawn gag. Granted, the last sewer she was in a few hours ago wasn't exactly peppered with potpourri, either, but this smelled like…like someone had died in here…

Taking hold of his new girlfriend's hand, Connor motioned for Faith and Spike to follow him. "This way, come on!"

After following the youth for three minutes into their trek, Spike tensed up. He still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right here. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it kinda felt like…

_Like we're being watched_, Spike realized, before taking a look towards a boarded-up hole to the right of him. Nothing.

At least, nothing that he could see.

Noting the vampire's tense behaviour, Faith gently nudged him. "Hey. You alright?"

Spike continued to stare at the hole as the quartet kept moving. "Just can't shake this bad feeling I've got, luv. We shouldn't be headin' this way..."

Overhearing his comment, Connor threw a dirty look at the peroxide-blond vampire. "Still can't get over it, can you? Does it really bruise your ego that much that I know more about this city's sewers than you do?"

For what felt like the umpteenth time since he arrived in this horrible city, Spike glowered at the boy who was, for all abominable intents and purposes, his nephew. "Chip off the Great Pouf's great big blockhead, I see. Got your old man's 'know-it-all' personality and everything."

"Guys, please, this isn't helping anything," Dawn pleaded with them.

"I'm _nothing_ like Angel," the youth all but snarled at Spike as he stopped and turned to face the British vampire. "And if you don't shut that annoying hole in your face _right now_ -"

"You'll do what, _kid_?" Spike retorted coldly as he came closer to Connor. "Newsflash, but the only reason I haven't unscrewed yer empty little head and used it as a bowling ball is because the Nibblet has a thing for you, and I hate to see her unhappy. But get in Uncle Spike's face again, runt, and I might 'ave to change my mind."

"That's it!" an angry Faith shouted, shoving them apart, hard. "That is _it_! I've _had_ it with all the macho alpha male crap I've had to put up with since I signed on for this gig! Connor, quit it with the hormonal rampages and start with the Pied Piper routine back to Angel's hotel. Spike, you quit being a smartass and stop needling the kid. And the next one of you who even looks at the other one funny is getting their teeth pulled out the old fashioned way, and I don't care whose kid or Grandchilde you are!"

The Destroyer of Quor-toth and the legendary Slayer of Slayers glared intensely at each other before Connor resumed his walk, Dawn close behind.

Dawn sighed, wondering if this was how Buffy had felt in the old days, when Xander and Angel used to get in each other's face that way. "You didn't have to antagonize Spike, you know," she quietly scolded Connor.

"You're taking his side?" a surprised and hurt Connor asked his girlfriend.

"No, I'm not," Dawn corrected him. "I'm just saying you could try to lighten up a little, Connor. Not everyone in this world is trying to show you up, or hassling you about who your parents are."

"It's just…well, I guess Ange...my dad's still a sore spot for me," he quietly admitted.

Dawn patted her new boyfriend's back affectionately. "Trust me - been there, done that."

Connor's face lit up in a tender smile as he looked down at the pretty face of the youngest Summers woman, who returned it with a caring gaze of her wide blue eyes.

Their tender moment was cut off, however, when Connor came face-to-face with something he hadn't expected: a fresh wall of concrete, where a tunnel (which would have led them to the last stretch of sewer leading to the hotel) should have been.

"Oh, no," Connor breathed, as he frantically rushed forward in disbelief, running his hands across the newly constructed wall before slamming a frustrated hand against the wall. "_**NO**_!"

Faith eyed the wall in trepidation. "I take it this is bad?"

"This wasn't here a few weeks ago!" Connor replied, dismayed. "I don't get it. How did they manage to seal the tunnel off so fast, what with the Rain of Fire and the Permanent Midnight and everything else?"

"Guess those DPW blokes aren't as lazy as ya might think," Spike mused, shaking his head. "Told ya we should've used my route."

"Can't we just retrace our steps, go the other way?" Dawn suggested, before the echo of several loud growls was heard in the sewer tunnel.

Faith felt her stomach tingle and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, which for a Slayer meant one thing: vampires.

"I figure we don't have time, Li'l D," Faith muttered, before the vampire swarm rounded the corner.

Like a pack of ravenous wolves, the undead swarmed around them, making sure the exit was blocked, which left the four heroes trapped in the freshly walled-off sewer.

Her eyes trained on the soulless demons advancing towards them, Dawn nervously clutched her stake. Connor could smell her fear emanating off of her in waves. It upset and angered him.

Sweeping her behind him, the well-trained teenage warrior readied his stake in his right hand, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet in a stance Angel had taught him.

"Stay behind me," Connor told his girlfriend. "I'll protect you to my last breath."

Dawn's heart fluttered at his sweet, protective gesture, before cursing her luck. Just when she had finally landed herself a sweet, cute and unique guy for a boyfriend, she was probably going to die before they got to explore just how deep their feelings were.

Well, if she was going out this way, Dawn figured she was damn well going to take a few of these undead bastards with her. She'd make Buffy proud. Steeling herself with a fiery look of defiance, she stared the undead in the eye, ready to meet them head-on.

Faith and Spike looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between his sharp blue eyes and her large brown orbs. This was really bad. Both of them had been in pretty tight scrapes in each of their respective paths. But even with Faith's five years as a Slayer and Spike's 123 years as one of the deadliest vampires to walk the Earth, neither quite knew what to do with their backs literally against the wall in a cramped sewer, with hordes of the undead ready to tear them to pieces.

Except to do the only thing they knew how to do - bring the house down with them, as they fought for their lives to the very last.

As he pulled out two of his Marlboros from his duster, Spike glanced at the attractive raven-haired Slayer beside him, a feeling of regret gnawing at him; he reckoned it was a pity that they'd probably go down without figuring out…whatever it was that was happening between them.

Or if it could hold a candle to his feelings for Buffy.

Or that he wouldn't be able to see Dawn grow up into the lovely young woman that she was transforming into almost right before his eyes.

Or if he could really make a difference with this new soul of his, burning in him like a spark that wouldn't die.

Or that he wouldn't have the chance to piss off Angel one last time.

Still, if there was ever a way for a dark warrior such as himself to go out, it was exactly like this. Spike abruptly recalled telling Angelus as much back in that Yorkshire mineshaft over a century ago…

_When was the last time that you unleashed it? All out fighting in a mob, back against the wall, nothing but fists and fangs? Don't you get tired of fights you know you're going to win?_

_Bloody ironic, now, innit_? Spike thought to himself with a smirk. He wouldn't mind at least a little glimmer, the smallest sign that victory could be within their reach right now.

"I'll watch your back, pet," Spike promised Faith, as he handed her a cigarette.

Her lighter pulled out, she lit it, and did the same for Spike. "Watch your own, stud," Faith winked at him. "Hey, how's my lipstick?"

He gave her an appreciative once-over. "Quite fetching, luv."

"William the Bloody, ever the gentleman," the raven-haired Slayer smiled, before she turned to the hissing pack of vampires, ready for one last stand. "You gonna paint a picture, boys, or are we gonna throw down already?"

The enemy growled at Faith's audacity, before Spike decided to throw in one last jab of his own. "Come on, people," he tossed his still-lit cigarette in the face of the closest vampire, trademark smirk on his face. "This isn't a spectator sport."

And then the demons began to swarm in on them…

"_Duck_!" the four white hats heard a familiar male voice shout.

…when the whistling sound of a metallic, disk-like object whizzed through the pack of evil undead, taking the heads of several vampires clean off.

Dawn and Connor barely had time to duck as the object bounced off the wall behind them, bouncing back in deadly symmetry towards another crop of vampires too slow to evade the lethal circular object's trajectory, their heads lopped off as the rest of their bodies exploded in ashes. It was a move that would have made Captain America proud.

The disk-like object was easily stopped by the hand that threw it…a hand that belonged to a fearsome-looking Angel, broadsword in hand, and clutching what appeared to be a sewer lid.

"_Angel_!" Dawn shouted, hope spreading through her.

"Dad?" Connor blurted out, confused.

Faith only smiled in relief. Angel was here to save the day, just like he always did.

But Spike literally groaned in dismay at the sight of his showboat Grandsire. "Oh, great, who the hell invited Captain Caveman-Brow to this party?"

Ignoring Spike - all too eager to do so, in fact - Angel snarled at the stunned vampire survivors, "_Stay. Away. From My. Kid_."

With that, the Champion charged toward the vampire pack, belting one of them with his makeshift shield while neatly decapitating three more vampires with his large blade. He moved with precision, no wasted movement, no move uncalculated.

Yet when Angel struck, he was devastatingly effective, leaving nothing standing in his path. A modern day knight in urban dress. A Champion of the innocent.

A father out to save his son, the way he had failed to do so when Connor was just a helpless infant.

Angel's relentless assault turned the tide as the others jumped into the fray, Spike and Faith hammering down with blows and stakes while Connor and Dawn did the same. The surprising eleventh-hour appearance of the proverbial cavalry, and the combined assault of the other four heroes, was simply too much for the vampires to handle.

"I'll say this for ya, Peaches," Spike grunted, flipping a vampire over and staking it as he and Angel found themselves fighting back-to-back, a scenario that both were all too familiar with during two decades of running together with Darla and Dru. "You certainly haven't lost any of your timing playing Dick Tracy down here in Hell-A."

"Shut up and watch your flank, Spike," Angel coldly retorted as his large, powerful fist connected with one of the soulless demons while his sword slashed through the throat of another vampire, dusting it.

As the now-desperate pack of undead monsters continued to battle against them, Angel and Spike managed to ignore the mutual disdain for one another and work in tandem, ancient instincts surfacing almost like second nature. Spike cleared the advancing vamps off Angel's left flank while the elder vampire made sure to dispatch any vampire coming up behind Spike.

It was hardly even an effort to do so, instinctual, practiced and honed over years of battles together. And while the white hats were vastly outnumbered, thanks to Angel's hidden arsenal and his relentless fury, their attackers never stood a chance…

Approximately three minutes later, the scattered ashes under the sewers were the only remains of the overpowered vampire mob.

"Everyone okay?" Angel asked, his concerned gaze directed at Connor as the group took a moment to catch their breath.

Connor, fighting to catch his breath, had a conflicted look in his blue eyes as he stared at his biological father, the male teen not sure whether he was grateful or annoyed by Angel's sudden rescue. It only took one look at Dawn and the realization that such a flawless example of female beauty would have been killed had it not been for Angel's intervention, though, for his feelings to slide over to the 'grateful' side of the fence.

"Yeah," Connor said shortly, not sure how to act. "We're good."

Dawn, however, had no conflict on expressing her gratitude, leaping forward and hugging Angel tightly. "Thanks to _you_."

Surprised for a moment, Angel - suddenly glad he didn't need to breathe, as she was squeezing so tightly - returned Dawn's hug; gently prying her off of him, yet still holding her shoulders, smiling down at the brunette girl. "You sure you're okay, squirt?"

"_Squirt_? I'm a whole inch taller than Buffy now, you know!" Dawn said in mock annoyance.

Affectionately, Angel patted the youngest Summers girl's head. "And I'm sure you've been telling her that every time you two get into an argument, knowing you."

"Every chance I get," Dawn smiled mischievously, earning a chuckle from Angel. Thanks to the memories bestowed by the monks of the Order of Dagon, Angel had become very fond of his former lover's sister, her youthful enthusiasm and spirit reminding him of his own beloved little sister, Kathy.

Still - as he looked over, and saw Connor guardedly keeping his distance - Angel wondered, with some hurt, how it would feel to have his son express the same kind of affection for him that Dawn had no problem showing.

But Angel had no more time for such thoughts, as Faith walked over and patted his duster-clad shoulder. "Nice save, Big Guy."

He offered the dark-haired Slayer a dry smirk. "I'm sure you could've taken them without me."

"Really couldn't have," Faith replied as she raised her eyebrows at him.

"_I_ think we bloody well could have," Spike piped up.

Immediately, Angel's cold glower zeroed in on Spike - his every instinct screaming to lift his sword and cut off the British vampire's head - before realizing that Buffy wouldn't want that. Returning his gaze to the others, Angel said, "Come on, we've got to get back to the hotel. Buffy and the others should have started their spell to get Cordy's soul back by now."

With that, the party of five began walking quickly through the sewers, heading south in the maze of dark, dank tunnels that would eventually lead them towards the hotel.

"How much further?" Faith asked the dark-haired vampire, a few minutes later.

"I'd say another twenty minutes at this pace," Angel mused, he knew that it could be done faster but Dawn, as a normal human, simply wouldn't be able to keep up with him, Spike, Connor and Faith. And Buffy would most likely kill him if anything else were to happen to Li'l Sis tonight.

"Do you really think you can get Cordelia back?" a now-anxious Connor suddenly asked his father. "The _real_ one?"

Angel let out a breathless sigh, his thoughts wandering to both his Vision Girl and Buffy, two of the most important women in his un-life, both of whose lives were in mortal danger at this moment. "I don't know, Connor. No one can guarantee anything right now."

"Way to rally the sodding troops, MacArthur," Spike sarcastically snorted as they entered the next tunnel.

Stopping short, his patience with Spike dangerously close to snapping, Angel whirled to face his Grandchilde. "If you want to keep that damn tongue of yours attached to your mouth, Spike, I suggest you shut up, right now!"

Spike drew back in surprise. "Bloody hell, Peaches, what's got _your_ panties in a twist?"

_The image of a squirming, bloody, teary-eyed Buffy begging for mercy underneath a cold-hearted Spike flashed unbidden before his eyes…_

"_Just. Shut. Your. Mouth_." Angel's jagged voice rumbled like thunder through his throat, the scowling hero clutching his sword so tightly it nearly cut into his skin. "I'm _not_ telling you twice."

As the others looked on in sudden dread, due to his natural belligerence Spike simply couldn't help himself. "Well, maybe if you beg me once, then," he acidly shot back, as both surly, ensouled vampires drew menacingly close to each other.

Dawn nervously swallowed as she saw both of her surrogate big brother figures ready to tear each other to pieces. _Uh, oh_…

Faith threw up her hands, exasperated. "You know what? Screw this shit, I've had it."

With that, she swiftly came between both vampires and gave them each one good, hard shove from each hand. Both Angel and Spike staggered sideways…only to feel the ground suddenly give underneath their feet, the fake surface below them buckling, sending them falling down into a shallow pit…

"_**ANGEL**_!" the undead detective could hear Dawn's worried scream.

…a pit lined with stakes.

With a flash of superhuman speed, Faith and Connor each managed to grab hold of a dangling Spike's hands, the British vampire grunting as he struggled to hold on.

"Relax, Spike, I've gotcha," Faith promised through a strained voice as she and Connor slowly pulled him up.

Meanwhile, Angel carefully held himself up over one of the large stakes, his hands catching the deadly spear before it could penetrate his sternum, holding his own body over the sharpened wood piece in an amazing display of agility.

"Angel, are you okay?" Dawn shouted down into the pit.

Grunting, Angel pushed himself off and landed safely on a patch of solid ground in the pit. "I'm fine."

Suddenly, a clattering of footsteps could be heard, making the others above ground turn in alarm.

From the pit, Angel looked up…as a small boy, red-haired and dirty-looking, suddenly appeared out of nowhere, pointing a spear menacingly at the Champion from above.

The first thing Angel noticed was that he was very young, perhaps no older than twelve. The second thing the detective noticed was his eyes. The kid looked brave, sure, like he was bigger than his little body gave him credit for, but the uncertain, scared look in his wide green eyes made the kid look like…well, a kid.

But within moments, the boy was no longer alone as a group of mean-looking, spear-carrying teenagers appeared out of nowhere, surrounding the four heroes above ground, their staffs raised in attack formation.

From the pit, Angel called up. "Spike?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," Spike answered, before an African-American youth, the leader from how he carried himself, spoke out.

"_No_. You're not alright 'til I _say_you're alright," he gruffly interjected, glaring at Spike. "Holly, you good?"

Holding a spear against Faith's throat, a pretty blond girl - Holly, Faith presumed - curtly replied as she never took her eyes off the Slayer. "Copasetic."

Another youth, a Hispanic from the looks of him, came up from behind Dawn, who gasped as she felt the sharp edge of his spear graze the back of her neck.

A bolt of rage instantly swept ran through Connor as he saw this. "_Get away from her_!" he snapped, about to make his move, when a purple-Mohawk-haired-teenager pushed him back, menacingly pointing the spear at the miracle child.

The leader youth, having no patience for Connor's antics, barked an order to the Mohawk kid. "Trip. If Lover Boy over there so much as breathes wrong, stick him full of holes."

"You got it, Golden," Trip replied, his eyes trained on Connor.

From the pit, Angel's hard brown eyes bore into the boy, picking him out as the weakest link of the group. "You know, I kind of have this thing about people pointing sharp, wooden…"

Suddenly realizing that a polite warning would get him nowhere, Angel opted for the direct approach.

"Gimme that."

In one preternaturally swift movement, Angel leapt up out of the pit and landed on his feet in front of the twelve-year-old, knocking him down with but one quick, hard push.

The distraction was all Spike needed as he batted the spear out of the one called Golden's hands, shoving him hard against the wall by the scruff of his shirt. "You feelin' all right _now_, Sunshine?" Spike leered at the caught-off-guard youth.

Following suit, Faith easily batted Holly's spear aside, following up with a hard side kick to knock the girl down to the floor before she pounced on her.

The Hispanic kid, distracted, took his eyes off Dawn just for a second…

…which was all it took for her to elbow the teen in the face, wrestling with him for the spear.

Mohawk Kid, or Trip, or whatever you wanted to call him, moved to back up the Hispanic boy - when Connor, in a blur of speed, kicked his spear at the center, smashing it in two, before landing a hard punch at the teen's face and sweeping his legs out from under him.

The battle then really started in earnest…until the sound of three gunshots stopped all the combatants cold. _**Click-click BANG-BANG-BANG**_!

"_Enough_!" a commanding female voice then rang out.

Faith, who had her balled fist frozen in mid-air, turned and slowly lowered her arm in surprise as she stared at the owner of that gun. Recognition set in as the Chosen One wearily said, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me…"

Knowing that a gun would do nothing to permanently hurt him, and not smelling any blood indicating that any of his people had been shot, Angel offered the downed boy his hand. "You okay?"

Surprisingly, the boy accepted the offered hand and hauled himself up, grunting, "Yeah."

Slowly, Angel turned around to meet the wielder of the firearm. "Look, why don't you just put that thing down before -?"

"What? Before someone gets hurt?"

Angel froze, as his disbelieving eyes finally beheld the blonde woman who held the gun. _Oh crap, what's SHE doing here_?

For just a few feet from him, gun cocked in mid-air, decked out in what appeared to be police-issue S.W.A.T Team armor and wearing a confident smile on her face…was an old friend/enemy.

"But then that's just like you, isn't it, Angel?" smirked former LAPD Detective Kate Lockley. "Always gotta play the hero."

* * *

**Inside Cordelia's mind**

**Now**

* * *

In the eight years she'd been a Slayer, Buffy had learned not to be fearless - but rather, to be able to overcome panic and terror.

Whenever the situation looked hopeless, which was very often a semi-annual event, the blonde Chosen One was able to not let her fears paralyse her - to block them out, and power on through to victory.

It was an ability that allowed Buffy to dig deep and find the resolve, the will, to defeat and vanquish a number of fearsome foes.

Dark Willow. Glory. Adam. Mayor Wilkins. The Sisterhood of Jhe. Drusilla. Spike. The Order of Taraka. Even Angelus.

But there were some things…some nightmares…that still blasted pure, unadulterated fear into even a heart as mighty as that of Buffy Anne Summers.

One such nightmare - a red-eyed, 6'6", bald, fanged and deformed monstrosity of a human being - was staring down at the petite Slayer and her recently resurrected travelling partner…who was staring, wide-eyed and petrified, at her ghoulish Sire.

"What's the matter, Slayer?" the Master's ancient, hollow voice curdled out of his throat, a smile full of malice plastered gruesomely on his bat-like visage. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

For a moment, Buffy could feel it happening all over again…_the icy, clammy grip of the Master's taloned hand around her soft throat…the sharp pain as ancient fangs broke through her youthful skin, draining her, drinking deeply of her blood…her nose, her lungs filling with water as she fell face-first into that shallow underground pool, her life slipping away… _

Shaking that horrible memory off, Buffy steeled herself, hardened blue-green eyes meeting the soulless, blood-red orbs of the creature that was responsible for her first death all those years ago.

"You…are not real," Buffy said, forcing her voice not to waver by sheer willpower.

The Master cocked his head, as if studying the girl who'd vanquished him atop the Sunnydale High School library seven years ago…

…and with a movement simply too fast for the human eye to see, he savagely backhanded Buffy several feet through the air, the Slayer then skidding across the rocky mindscape as she landed hard on her back.

Dazed, Buffy spit out a trickle of blood as she tried to make it to her knees, the Master's cold and demonic voice ringing in her ears: "_That_ feel real enough for you?"

_So…fast_, the thought rang though Buffy's head as she tried to clear away the cobwebs. _Damn. Forgot how…fast that ugly bastard moves. And he still…hits…like a Mack Truck on steroids._

The Master's deformed face whipped immediately towards Darla, and she felt a frightened gasp escape her throat. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream, to fight, to do…anything but just stand there like a frozen ice sculpture.

Still, all it took was one look into those horrible crimson irises and she was petrified, like a canary staring at a King Cobra.

Try as she might, Darla could not stop the flood of awful memories from washing over her - that first cruel bite he took of her throat as she lay dying that day, in that foul-smelling bed in the Virginia of 1609.

The day the ancient soulless monster ended the life of a cynical, bitter, amoral whore - and created one of the most feared vampires of all time.

"_Darla_," the Master's voice came out with something akin to affection, or what passed as affection amongst monsters. His steps were slow and deliberate, as if stalking prey, as he approached her. "It's been too long, my dear."

"Stay away from me," Darla said quietly as she instinctively drew back, not sure if that was a command or a plea for mercy that just left her lips.

A small, grotesque 'O' formed on the soulless creature's pink-stained mouth. "Now, now; that's hardly generous of you, is it? Think of how much I've missed you."

"Miss _this_!" an annoyingly familiar voice perked up the Master's ears…

…just as Buffy's foot connected with his head in a stunningly fast flying kick. The blow knocked the powerful vampire off balance and sent him flying backwards several feet, before he hit the ground with a loud _thud_!

As Buffy turned to Darla, she could see the fear written plain as day on the older woman's face. She had a haunted, frail look in her blue eyes that spoke volumes about her current state of mind.

Grabbing the woman's slender shoulders, Buffy shook her, hard. "Darla. _Darla, get a grip_! He'll be on his feet again any minute. If you can't help me fight him, then get clear - I can't worry about protecting you while I'm fighting Grandpa Gruesome at the same time!"

"He's here…he's really here," a confused Darla stammered. "I-i-it can't be, he's gone forever now, he's dead -"

"He _is_ dead," Buffy assured her, trying to keep the snappishness out of her voice. "Because I killed him. I even crushed his bones into chalkboard powder, just to be sure! Look, whatever that thing really is, he's _not_ the Master. He's not the same thing that killed you and me, both. It's a trick from the Beastmaster to keep us from getting to Cordelia, which is why I need you to get it together before he kills us bo_-tthhghlk_!"

It was as if he'd moved at the speed of light, he was just so fast as the Master's cold, iron-hard grip suddenly clamped around Buffy's throat from behind her. As he lifted her up into the air, Buffy's eyes bulged as she suddenly found it impossible to breathe, desperately trying to pry his death grip from around her neck.

"I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken, little girl," the Master sneered, his blood-red eyes turning towards Darla as he spoke. "Whatever made you think I wished to kill she who was my favorite, for centuries? I only want to make my beloved Childe what she was again…strong, powerful, fearless, an immortal Belladonna that blossoms in the night and feeds off the pestilence of man."

"_No_…" Darla whispered, still too frightened to move.

Buffy gasped in pain as the soulless vampire's grip tightened around her larynx.

"_You_, on the other hand, Slayer, have annoyed me long enough. I believe I told you once that you were destined to die, that it was written." He chuckled at a long-lost memory, as Buffy continued to squirm in his grasp. "And with that annoyingly flippant tongue of yours, you told me you'd flunked the written. Well, then, I hope you brought a book, you insufferable little bitch…"

With that, the Master threw the blonde Champion hard, and head-first, into the side of a jagged rocky peak. "Because it's time to go to school."

As an afterthought before he moved to finish off the fallen Slayer, he turned to a still-frozen Darla. "Don't worry, I'll be right back."

Buffy slumped against the base of the rock, knocked for a loop and a half. Yet, she still found a way to dig deep and push herself up off the ground, her lower lip split and her head ringing, but still defiant, still strong. Still willing to kick that thing's ass.

"May as well give it up now, Baldy-locks," Buffy coughed, steadying herself. "'Cause the _real_ Master could hit a lot harder than that. The only thing you have in common with him are your boyish not-so-good looks."

"Ah, excellent," the Master clucked his tongue. "I was worried that your acid tongue would have lost its sting after all these years. All the sweeter for when I _tear it out of your mouth and swallow it whole."_

Buffy frowned at him. "Did you just try to hit on me, Fang Face? Because, seriously…_eww_."

"Make all the quips you wish, Slayer," the Master growled, as they circled each other predatorily. "But I'll be sure to finish the job this time. And why, might you ask? Because you cannot beat me here. I'm faster, stronger, and smarter than you can remember. Whereas you are the same smart-mouthed little tramp that died at my hand, before you ever even knew the ultimate pleasure a man can bestow. You can take a hit, Slayer, I'll give you that - but endurance alone doesn't make you a warrior. It just makes you a…hmm, what's the term I'm looking for? Oh, yes, a _punching bag_."

"Okay, Jabber Jaws," a bruised but unbroken Buffy smirked. "You wanna do this? Fine." She cracked her knuckles, set her jaw and got ready for battle. "Let's do this."

Enraged at her gumption, the former leader of the Order of Aurelius charged at her, a taloned right hand extended like claws ready to literally rip her heart out.

But utilizing supernatural agility, Buffy leapt over him, spinning in mid-air and delivering a solid kick to his head as she did so. The Master was knocked off-balance and Buffy began to rain down upon him a series of high roundhouse kicks, solid jaw punches and backhand strikes, relishing every blow that landed.

However, the Master was more than a match for everything she could dish out, catching an attempt at a backhand strike before twisting Buffy's arm painfully and landing a solid, crunching punch on her face. Dazed, Buffy staggered backwards as the Master's fist drove into her well-toned midsection, doubling her over in pain before the soulless monster drove his knee sharply up into her face, her nose spurting blood as she fell backwards onto the ground.

"Buffy…no…" Darla breathed, watching helplessly as her Sire began to tear the Chosen One apart. Buffy was strong, agile, courageous…but against the Master? How could she stand a chance against him? How could anyone stand a chance against _him_?

"He'll kill her, you know," a male voice suddenly called out from several feet next to her. "Just like you killed me."

Darla whirled, shocked to see the smirking face of a young teenage boy, fifteen - no more than sixteen years old, at best. She instantly remembered who he was - it was the face of Jesse McNally. Xander and Willow's best friend. The boy she'd sired years ago when Buffy had first come to Sunnydale, the Master distastefully refusing to partake of her 'scraps'.

The face of one of her many past victims. _Oh, God_…

Meanwhile, Buffy's head snapped back as the Master's boot connected with her face, the petite blonde fighter collapsing into a heap of tender, bruised flesh.

"Oh, but how I've missed hurting you, Slayer," the Master crooned as he slowly circled Buffy's prone form. "It's very…addictive."

Slowly opening her bloodshot eyes, Buffy managed to roll onto her stomach before pushing up with her elbows, grunting as she slowly rose to her feet. "Yeah? Well, it's time for…_mmngh_…you to kick…the habit…and for me…to kick…_your_ ass, for a change."

Amused at her tenacity, the Master smirked at the beautiful, yet bleeding, Chosen One. "My, my. You just don't know when to give up, do you? You're like a cockroach that doesn't know when to lay down and die."

Buffy spat out a globule of blood, flashing a dazed yet defiant smile at the Master. "Better a…cockroach…than a big…ugly…bat-nosed…freak show. And I can...do this…all…day," she panted heavily.

Buffy knew in her heart, however, that she was bluffing. The Master had her on the ropes, and at this rate, he was soon going to inflict more damage than her supernatural healing factor could cope with. She had to put him down soon, and get a minute to breathe…or she'd be finished.

"Of _course_ you can. You Slayers are built for this kind of thing, aren't you?" the Master spat, his cold, horrid voice full of scorn. "But sadly, little girl, time is short...and so is my patience."

With a wave of his hand, the earth began to shift behind them, and suddenly, a lake appeared out of nowhere.

Before Buffy could process what had just happened, the Master, moving with unparalleled speed, was suddenly hoisting Buffy up by the throat, the blonde Slayer choking and gagging helplessly as the ancient vampire carrying his weakened prey towards the water.

Buffy's beautiful face was suddenly horror incarnate, as the Master's intentions became clear as day to her. She tried with all her might to fight this thing, but he was too fast, too strong…

"Moral of the story, Slayer? Sometimes, there are no happy endings," the Master leered at his helpless quarry. "Here endeth the lesson."

"_No_!" Buffy shouted, but to no avail as the Master suddenly plunged her deep into the water, laughing maniacally as she kicked and struggled underneath his grasp, the water rippling with her helpless flailing.

Buffy strained to hold her breath. But weakened by the brutal fight she'd just undergone, she could not hold out against the diabolical vampire's chokehold and the walls of water above her head, her mouth and nose suddenly beginning to fill with liquid as breathing became impossible…

Trembling, Darla turned away, unable to bear seeing Jesse's face. "I'm sorry."

The boy's malicious laugh offered her no forgiveness. "Sure you are, toots. It doesn't make me any less dead, though, and it doesn't make you any less of a murdering bitch. Huh, no wonder why you can't make a damn bit of difference in this fight - you're nothing. _Less_ than nothing. Just a two-bit tramp whose best bet of making it in life was finding the right john-slash-sugar daddy."

Upon hearing that, Darla's face hardened as she turned towards him. "Beat it, Casper. I know you're not real."

"Does that matter?" 'Jesse' sneered, his face vamping out to reveal his demonic features. "Because what's happening is. All the deaths, all the pain you caused…that's real, sugar tits. You think you can change any of that just because you decided to play Jiminy Cricket with your third round trip from beyond the grave? Well, you can't. So just sit back and let it happen, babe. You're not a fighter, Darla, you never were, so just kick your heels back, relax and-"

_Crunch_!

The impact of Darla's fist against the fake Jesse's face was loud and audible, collapsing the fledgling vampire to the ground.

"Thanks for the wake-up call, _kid_," Darla said vindictively, her clothes suddenly morphing into something more appropriate for combat-a black leather duster, white halter top, black boots and black leather pants.

Darla's blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with a predator's gaze, as she kicked 'Jesse' in the balls and then left him behind in her dust. "I needed that."

"You're like a rat, Slayer," the Master taunted Buffy, as her struggles became weaker. "And what's the best way to deal with a rat, hmm?"

Beneath the water, Buffy was just about to die, the lights of life slowly fading from her eyes. _Can't…end like…this…have to…keep…f…fight…in…g…_

"Simple - you drown them," the Master smiled evilly as he felt the life leaving his prey…

…until a pair of female hands suddenly seized his shoulders, hauling him off the Slayer, before a hard right hook knocked him several feet in the air.

Dazed, the Master shook off the shock and began sitting up. He screamed, "_Who dares _-?"

Standing in the lake, having already tossed Buffy onto the shore in one smooth motion, Darla stood tall, ready for battle. "_I_ dare - you damned bastard!"

Barely half-conscious, Buffy fought for precious, life-saving air as she vomited the deadly water out of her lungs. In a blur of speed that not even she could comprehend, Darla was almost immediately by her side, kneeling and tending to the Slayer.

"Are you alright?" asked Darla, genuine concern in her eyes.

"Right…as rain," Buffy barely coughed out the words, still dazed and injured. "Hey…what's with…the new getup?"

"I think I just figured out how this place works," Darla said simply, before standing to stare down her enemy. "You can sit this one out, Buffy; I'll take things from here."

"Darla…no," Buffy rasped out, still struggling to get her bearings. "He's…too strong…he'll…kill you…"

As Darla measured the infamous vampire king on the other side of the lake, getting to his feet and snarling in fury, her eyes narrowed dangerously into slits. "Well, then...I guess I'll just have to kill _him_ first."

She took one huge leap, bounding over the lake like the Incredible Hulk and landing only three feet away from the Master.

"Hello, Heinrich," Darla coldly addressed the soulless demon by his former human name, Heinrich Joseph Nest.

She was now the only person left on Earth who knew of the Master's human life more than a thousand years ago, as a corrupt German priest who'd worshipped the Dark Arts long before being sired by Aurelius himself. A blind vampire who'd indoctrinated the former priest into his order, before being betrayed to his death - by the soon-to-be-Master - at the hands of a Slayer during the 12th century.

"That's _Master_ to you, my Dear One," the former Heinrich hissed at her.

"I'm not your Dear One, and I have no master save the Creator himself," Darla scowled.

The Master narrowed his grotesque red pupils at his favorite Childe. "So, this is the thanks I get? After all I did for you. After everything I gave you -"

"You gave me nothing but a restless nature and a blood-stained soul," Darla spat, her stance becoming defensive. "Or at least, the _real_ Master did anyway. You might not be the real thing, but I'll take whatever I can punch."

"_Worthless whore_! I'll drain you until you're an empty sack of flesh and bones," growled the Master.

"Will you? Promises, promises," Darla yawned as if bored as she dug her heels in, flashing him a deadly smile. "Now, let's dance...handsome."

The Master, or at least the mental image of him, bellowed an angry roar as he charged towards Darla.

"Darla…look out!" Buffy coughed as she struggled to get to her feet.

At that moment, the air around Darla began to glisten and shimmer, and suddenly, a large spear appeared in her hands. At the last possible moment, as the Master came charging down upon her like a crazed bull, Darla twirled effortlessly, gathering valuable momentum…

…and plunged the spear deep into the Master's chest cavity.

The ancient vampire could only gape in bewilderment at the sudden turn of events, as he staggered back, the wooden shaft still impaled in his chest.

Darla smirked wickedly at him with a look of satisfaction. "_Oops_. Look what I just did. But I'm still your favorite, right?"

The Master could not even utter a reply as he slowly disintegrated into a pile of black, sticky ashes.

With unfeigned disinterest Darla simply discarded the spear, walking back quickly to check on Buffy - who was staring at her in complete awe.

"How…how did you do that?" a wary Buffy asked, now incredibly suspicious. Darla seemed human enough, and Buffy's built-in Slayersense weren't screaming 'vampire!'…and yet no human being could have done what she did. "Was it that…magic…that you were talking about earlier?"

"Not exactly," Darla said, as she helped to lift the blonde Slayer to her feet, the beating she took leaving Buffy with no choice but to lean on Darla for support. "I just figured out that in this place, reality is what you can make of it. The result of mental constructs that we project. You said it yourself...we're trapped in Cordelia's mind, with whatever the Beastmaster throws at us. So I decided to quit playing the helpless damsel in distress, and you saw for yourself what happened."

Buffy frowned. "So, in other words...we think it, we do it?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Darla said, closing her eyes for a moment as if sensing for something.

Buffy, already wigged out by the landscape and the sudden reappearance of one of her oldest enemies, was now completely confused by Darla's actions. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for something," Darla muttered, before opening her eyes. "There."

" 'There' _what_?" Buffy demanded.

"Cordelia. I can feel the presence of her human soul," Darla explained.

Alert, Buffy looked around...but she sensed nothing but rocks, peaks and rain. Even the Jesse vampire had vanished by now. "Where?"

"It's further up. We have a lot of ground to cover," Darla simply stated, before resuming their earlier pace. "Come on."

"Gimme a second, I'm still feeling a little oogy," Buffy complained, thanks to all the damage the pseudo-Master had just inflicted upon her.

Sighing in exasperation, Buffy had little choice but to follow as she leaned on the ex-vampire for support. She couldn't sense jack squat around this place, and yet apparently, Darla could. Whatever it was that was guiding her, though, she wasn't about to question. They were working on a very small window of opportunity, and things weren't getting easier.

As she trudged alongside Darla, Buffy couldn't help but to stare at her travelling companion. "By the way, what was with the complete one-eighty back there?"

Darla, puzzled by her question, stopped for a moment. "I don't understand."

"You know, one minute you're all scared and timid when ol' Fruit-Punch Mouth appeared out of nowhere...and then suddenly, you turn into Xena Warrior Princess?" Buffy asked. "I'd pretty much counted you out of the game by that point, so…what gives?"

Hesitating for a moment, Darla decided to be honest. "There was a friend of yours. A dead one. Or at least, something pretending to be your dead friend while you were fighting that fake Master."

"A friend of mine?" Buffy asked, surprised. "Who was it?"

Swallowing for a moment, Darla quietly uttering, "His name was…Jesse."

It took Buffy a few moments before her eyes widened, as she pictured the face of a cute, yet goofy boy - one of Willow and Xander's friends - who she'd met on her first day at Sunnydale High, all those years ago.

One of her first friends in Sunnydale, who'd been a vampire the next time she'd seen him.

"Jesse?" Buffy was floored by Darla's latest revelation. "Wha…how?"

"One of the Beastmaster's tricks," Darla exhaled. "No doubt it figured it could get to me, by using one of the sins of my past."

"Sins of...?" With a shock, Buffy suddenly remembered exactly what had happened in the Bronze, during the night of the Harvest. She narrowed her eyes at Darla and said, "It was _you_, wasn't it? You were the one who turned him into a vampire before Xander and I found Jesse in the sewers that day."

Darla looked away remorsefully, her wordless gesture confirming Buffy's suspicions.

For a moment, Buffy's left fist curled into a powerful five-fingered ball that ached to shatter Darla's pretty face like glass. But then, the Slayer forced herself to stop - reminding herself that were it not for Darla's intervention just now, that thing pretending to be the Master would have killed her, again. And, from what Angel had told her earlier, Darla had changed. Besides, from the way the former vampiress was acting now, it appeared that she was still paying for her past crimes.

At last, Darla broke the tense silence with a soft, raspy apology.

"There's a lot of things I've done over the past four centuries that I'm not proud of, Buffy. Jesse was one of them," she said, looking to her companion with regret-filled eyes. "There is an ocean of blood on my hands that I can never wash off, and almost endless suffering I've caused that I can never apologize enough for. I don't expect you to understand that…nor to forgive me for it." Darla looked away. "I know I never will."

Upon hearing her words, Buffy's mind flashed with the images of the past, the faces of the people in her life who could make similar statements. Angel, Spike, Giles, Anya, Oz, even Willow, and now, Cordelia...

At some point or other in their lives - for some of them, several times over - they had all done things that had cost others their lives, things Buffy knew that haunted them every single day. And yet…she still loved them all no less. They were her friends; part of her make-shift, unconventional family.

Darla wasn't part of that, of course…but it didn't mean that Buffy couldn't get how she felt.

"Maybe I understand better than you think," Buffy relented with a sigh. "The forgiveness part, I'm still…working on. But, given time - and provided you don't try to kill me again, of course - who knows? Maybe I'll get there someday. Maybe, and that's a big maybe…if all goes well, maybe we can even be…friends."

The small smile that she gave the ex-vampire showed Darla that her former enemy was earnest and true in her words.

"I'd…like that," Darla smiled back, hesitantly.

Buffy sighed, yet maintained her smile. "Me, too."

Darla paused for a moment, before smiling wickedly. "Of course, from what I've seen concerning your life while I was Up There, if you think it would help speed the forgiveness process along…we _could_ always have sex together."

At her words, Buffy blanched, stopping dead in her tracks. She spluttered, "Whatamawhodi-_huh_?"

"It'd be strictly in the interests of establishing friendship, you understand," Darla said, her eyes looking surprisingly serious.

Buffy immediately began fidgeting nervously. She hadn't anticipated that Darla swung that way...even though she of all people knew just how highly sexed the members of Angel's 'family' could be. "Listen, Darla, I-I don't really think that's a good…n-n-not that I'm not flattered…I mean, I'm not, I'm j-j-just not into…"

Buffy frowned, seeing the façade on Darla's face crack ever so slightly. "Wait up. Am I being _punk'd_ here?"

Darla giggled softly. "Yes. Relax, Buffy, I was only teasing. I mean, you're cute and all, but you're not my type."

Thinking back to the tension between Darla and two certain handsome white hats earlier, Buffy smirked as she decided to have some fun of her own. "Soooo, what exactly is your type? Are you more into the stubbly, sullen, studmuffin guy...or do you happen to dig the cocky, cool guitar hero variety?"

The ex-vampire's smile faded as her cheeks burned pinkish-red. Darla suddenly pictured both Wesley and Lindsey's handsome faces, remembering what it had felt like to be in Wesley's pleasantly unexpected, heated, fiery embrace, and how it differed from the surprisingly tender, sweet kiss that Lindsey stole from her.

Off her silence, and her visibly confused body language, Buffy chuckled. "And they say _my_ love life is complicated."

Darla sighed as they continued onward through the barren mindscape. "Honey, you don't know the half of it."

* * *

Deep within the recesses of Cordelia's mind, the Beastmaster - still using her host's physical form - angrily clenched her fists, drawing blood as she stared at the two blonde heroines continuing to make their way towards her location.

"Damn it!" she cursed. "I thought that overgrown bat-faced freak would have been enough to get rid of both of them!"

"Then you had better hope that your next trick will be up to par," said a voice from the shadows. "Hadn't you?"

Painfully reminded that she was not alone here, the Beastmaster sighed, grinding out her next words. "Of course…_mistress_. I'm _sure_ that the next little party surprise for our guests will get the job done."

"For your sake, I hope that's the case. Because you know what will happen if they reach their friend," the rotting and maggot-faced figure said, as both villainesses turned their eyes to their guarded prize…the soul of the real Cordelia Chase, asleep and encased in an amber-like cocoon.

Completely powerless to stop anything from happening.

"Don't worry," the Beastmaster assured the dark figure. "The faux-Master was just the warm-up act. As long as they're in this realm, the power is in our hands."

"I have no doubt of that. After all…" the fallen Power stepped out from the shadows, morphing into a beautiful African-American woman.

Or, at least, what appeared to be a woman. What she truly was, however, was ever so much more than that.

"…Power is a concept that I'm…quite familiar with," the woman smiled serenely.

* * *

**A cave near the outskirts of San Francisco, CA**

**The same time**

* * *

"Will you just stop squirming?" Amy Madison snapped, as her hands crackled with supernatural magical energy.

"I'm _trying_ to stop squirming, will you stop flapping your lips and just hurry up with the - _**OWWWW**_!" screamed a grotesque, humanoid mass of pinkish-and-white flesh, apparently a male, the mystical forces flowing from Amy surrounding him, and suddenly giving him a painful jolt.

"Hey, you did that on purpose!" the man - or humanoid - screamed accusatorily.

Amy wickedly smiled. "Did I? Hmm, can't tell over how loud my gums are flapping, can I?"

The hideous, humanoid form glared at her as the energy suddenly died down around him.

"There," Amy sighed. "The spell's been recast. You should be good to go for another few days, until your next recharge is needed."

Snorting, the male abruptly stood up, muttering, "Well, took you long enough," before heading back to working on a strange mechanical contraption fashioned to look like a laser weapon.

Annoyed, Amy threw up her hands. "Sure, whatever. Forget about saying something along the lines of 'Gee, thanks, Amy, for magically cocooning my flesh with your magicks instead of letting me die instantly.' And while we're on the subject, I haven't heard a 'By the way, Amy, thanks a lot for saving me when Willow flayed me alive last year! Boy, you're just the best girlfriend ever!' either. Just throw me a bone here, Warren, that's all I'm asking!"

Gritting his teeth, the skinless Warren Mears tried to tune out his so-called girlfriend's ramblings. It had been like this for months, ever since Amy - who had been stalking Willow after the redhead had de-ratted her - had yanked him back from the brink of death when a vengeful Dark Willow had ripped off his skin in the woods outside Sunnydale.

Payback for putting a bullet in that stammering blonde chick that the little redheaded Wicca bitch was screwing, of course.

Whether they were gathering fruits in the woods or killing some stupid animal for food, and worse, when he was working on his latest weapon - an uphill chore without access to his lab supplies, which had been sold off by his landlord after Warren had mysteriously vanished for months - Amy was always there. Chewing his ear off about how big she owed him, when he knew damn well that she'd only saved him because they had something in common - they wanted Willow Rosenberg, Buffy Summers and the rest of their stupid little gang dead.

Once he found a way to finish his latest gadget, Warren figured he might actually find a way to get his revenge…

_Which would definitely go a lot faster, if a certain witch would just SHUT UP ALREADY!_ Mears thought angrily to himself.

"Do. You. Mind?" Warren snapped at her, hunched over the unfinished weapon. "I'm trying to concentrate here!"

Amy groaned as she leaned against the wall of the cave. "Oh, God, I hate this place. I used to have an apartment, a life! Now, look at me - I'm shacked up in a cave, living off squirrels and berries with a boyfriend who has no face, and I'm sick and tired of taking a bath in that damned lake. Fish spawn in there! Stick a beard on me and I'm the frigging Unabomber, for Christ's sake!"

"Well, if you like your apartment so much - why don't we just go back there, _honey_?" Warren asked tersely. He hated to admit it, but he was getting sick of living off the land himself. Warren definitely missed the days when he'd had his toadies Andrew and Jonathan catering to his every whim, from within the comfort of his lab.

Off that crack, Amy scowled at him. "You know exactly why we can't go there, _baby_. Ever since word got out about that little prank I pulled on cute, sweet Willow, her damn Coven in England has been looking for me in order to take my powers away. My apartment is sure to be under surveillance! It's only because of the warding spell I cast in this cave that they haven't already found us. And if they strip me of my powers -"

"Then I end up dead as a dodo. As you've so often reminded me," Warren grimaced.

"Hey, don't blame me for that part, bucko," Amy threw her hands up. "I'm not the one who decided to make you go commando for keeps. That was Willow's doing, remember?"

Flashing back to that awful moment - when the black-haired witch had said 'Bored now,' before casually and effortlessly disfiguring him forever - Warren seethed, then he angrily grabbed his stolen tool kit and hurled it crashing against the other side of the cave, tools spilling everywhere.

Willow Rosenberg…the bitch had ruined his life. Nearly ended it. He used to love his own reflection - but now, Warren couldn't bear to look in the mirror anymore. Constantly seeing that nightmare would be enough to drive anyone (except Amy, apparently) nuts. That was part of why Warren was thankful there weren't any mirrors around here, save the ones he used as refractive lenses within the laser weapon.

But he'd get even. If it was the last thing he ever did, Warren swore the day would come when he'd peel Willow's pretty face off just like she'd done to him, and he'd ask if the bitch was bored _now_ while she was screaming her head off.

Unexpectedly, Mears felt Amy's arms wrap around his neck, the magic preventing the cotton of her shirt from clinging to the sticky fluids of his exposed muscle tissue.

"Aww, don't get upset, sweetie," the Madison woman cooed, pressing closer to his face. "You'll get your thingamajig to work. And then…we'll kill them all."

Pressing an unsightly tendon-red hand to Amy's wrist -an oddly affectionate gesture, all things considered -Warren sighed as he stared at his weapon. "Uh-uh, baby. They'll wish they were dead _long_ _before_ we kill them. Personally, I plan on keeping Rosenberg alive for a few weeks, maybe doing some really painful experiments with her organs, before I put two in each of her eyeballs. Maybe I'll beat Harris to death and then rape Buffy in front of her a couple times, just for giggles -"

Suddenly, he yelped in pain as Amy's hand smacked the back of his head, painfully.

"Are you saying you think about that skinny bottle-blonde tramp like that instead of _me_?" Amy demanded, looking utterly furious.

"What?" Warren asked, bewildered, before he realized his transgression. "No, no, babe, of course not - I'd do that because I loathe her, not because she's hot -"

"Oh, so you think she's _hot_ now?" Amy shouted. "You insensitive jerk! I've got half a mind to yank that spell off you right here, right now, and leave you twitching and dead in this stinking hellhole!"

"You always did have a way with women, didn't you, Warren?" a familiar voice came out of nowhere.

Surprised, Amy and Warren turned from their lovers spat to see the face of someone they'd heard had recently been declared dead…Jonathan Levinson.

"Jonathan?" Warren's skinless form recoiled in surprise. "I thought you were -"

"Dead? Yeah, I get that a lot," the diminutive form of the former Sunnydale High School graduate and ex-Trio member shrugged. "Mostly 'cause it's true, but whatever."

Amy, however, could sense something that Warren, while incredibly brilliant, was too much of a muggle to perceive. "No…you're not really Jonathan, are you? I can feel it, feel…something..."

'Jonathan' chuckled, amused. "You really are quite the little Wicked Witch of the East, aren't you? And she's definitely a keeper if you ask me, Warren."

"Who or what are you?" Warren demanded, he was in no mood for games.

"Something beyond your comprehension, 'bucko,'" the First Evil smirked. "Let me ask you both something - how'd you like the chance to dismember the witch that mutilated you for life…" he looked to Warren, "…and always left you standing in her shadow…" he gazed at Amy, "…as well as taking out the Slayer and her pals, while having a shot at gaining power unlike anything you've ever known before?"

Exchanging looks with Amy, who after a minute, smiled and nodded, Warren turned back to the ghostly imitation of his dead lackey with an eager smile of his own. "I'd say you're playing my song, Casper."

"Well, then, get your dancing shoes on, you crazy kids," the First/Jonathan grinned with an evil glint in its eyes. "Because we're going to dance all night long. On the Slayer's grave."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

Next: Buffy and Darla finally come face-to-face with the Beastmaster and the mysterious Power. Can they revive the real Cordelia before the fallen PTB can finally bring about her dark plans? Or will they both die trying?

Angel and the gang reunite with Kate Lockley. But who - or what - is stalking them down there in the sewers, as they all head for the Hyperion? And what is its connection to the unborn Power?

And when Skip quits yapping and actually starts threatening the lives of everyone back at the hotel, the only one who can save the day is - Xander? God help all the good guys in there...

* * *

Well, that's all for now, kids. More coming on the way soon, so, stay tuned!

-Jean-theGuardian


	22. Part 20 Wake Me Up Inside, Part 1

A/N : Hey, all! Slight change of plans - this here chapter (edited and beta-ed by the Great One himself, Starway Man) is going to be split into 2 parts-with the second part coming around 7 p.m. on Friday night.

I would have uploaded the whole thing, but unless y'all have the patience to read 60-70 pages of a chapter in one sitting, I thought this might be the best option. Some of you might recognize the below scenario in this chapter from "Sacrifice", Episode 20 of Angel: Season 4. You'll see why later…

Special thanks to Judy, Angellufy, azerjaban, ashes at midnight, megagalvatron12, David Fishwick, Prodigious Singleton and Wolfram-and-Hart Sauron for their kind reviews. I know a lot of you out there, like me, probably do the reading thing and tag it on the alert or favourites list, sometimes. But if you drop me a line view review or IM, I'd definitely appreciate the feedback on this.

Anywho, It's time. It's time…it's time FOOOOOORRR-

* * *

**Bring Me To Life- A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel Crossover Event**

* * *

**Part 20 - ****Wake Me Up Inside, Part 1**

* * *

**Catholic monastery, shortly after the massacre - Gilroy, CA**

**One Night Later**

* * *

_Hmm, now that's odd_, the man in the blood-red burgundy shirt, brown pants and long brown coat standing outside the monastery thought as the skies above him began to darken, and the rain began to pour down. _I thought rain wasn't due to be on the menu for tonight_.

Regardless, a little change in weather was not something that bothered Ethan Rayne very much. He had grown up in London - as such, one had to become accustomed to a bit of rain now and then.

Besides, if playing his part in this little game would grant him the kind of power that he had sought all his life, then the British man could easily withstand the presence of a little water pelting him here and there.

It had been a long road leading Ethan here, ever since that fiasco with Rupert Giles three years ago. _I mean, all that was just a bit of a minor prank - no need for anyone's nose to get all bent out of shape over it. So what if Ripper got turned into a Fyarl demon for a little while? It's not like he didn't do worse, back in the good old days..._

Unfortunately, the target of his 'prank' hadn't seen it that way, and neither had his Slayer nor Riley Finn, that uptight soldier boy she'd apparently been shagging. Getting arrested and sent to that place in Nevada hadn't been fun; neither was the re-education program he'd been forced to undergo during his imprisonment. Ethan had been at his wit's end, and had prayed to Janus for help...

Unfortunately, the Roman god of chaos wasn't interested. Neither had the other Chaos gods he had worshipped. However, Ethan's prayers had been heard by someone else. Some_thing_ else, rather.

The First Evil.

Growing annoyed as the downpour grew stronger, Ethan opened up his umbrella; not so much out of concern for himself, but more to keep the information sealed in the manila envelope tucked under his left arm safe. Information was power, after all, and there was no need for poor presentation, even in the presence of lowly minions.

Not that Rayne would _ever_ dare call the man he was waiting for anything like that directly to his face, of course. Ethan knew full well what that particular degenerate was capable of - knew well his volatile temper, and had seen the photographs of some of his…work. And while the twisted, anarchy-loving English warlock was many things, suicidal and foolish were not on that list.

Getting restless after waiting for what he considered long enough, Ethan strode impatiently towards the door of the religious haven. Just as he was about to force his way in, the large cedar door swung open…

…revealing an onyx-eyed Caleb, both hands coated in blood, and a bone-chilling, satisfied smile on his face.

Finding Caleb's appearance unsettling, even by his twisted standards, Ethan took a moment before coolly addressing the false preacher. "Well. I take it things went all right, then?"

"Depends on who you talk to - me or them dead Friar Tucks in 'ere," Caleb smirked with satisfaction. "Now, what in the hell do _you_ want, Rayne?"

"To give you some information, old chap. Information that could be of interest to you," Ethan replied icily, gesturing to the envelope under his arm. "That is, if I can get out of this bloody rain before the ink smudges?"

Regarding the other man with more than a hint of disdain - there was something about foreigners, or maybe just this particular foreigner, that he simply hated - Caleb waited a long moment before gesturing for the Englishman to enter the monastery. "_Mi casa es su casa_. Or something like that."

Warily, Ethan crossed the threshold, his eyebrows raised as he took in the carnage within the desecrated monastery's walls. Bodies of dead monks were strewn in several places across the halls, and the stench of blood and gore was everywhere.

The former Chaos worshipper had to give credit where it was due; he might be a psychotic, rambling, redneck pillock, but this servant of the First Evil certainly knew how to carry out his work.

"I cleaned up real good around here, didn't I?" Caleb grinned, pleased with himself as he regarded the massacre.

"In a matter of speaking, yes," Ethan shook his head, casually stepping over the headless body of a monk as he stepped further into the monastery. "So, I take it you didn't find what you were looking for?"

"Would have had this little party if I did, anyway - but, _no_, I didn't," Caleb replied tersely, his temporary good mood immediately vanishing as he turned his attention to a dying monk, moaning in agony, his arms and legs bent at unnatural angles.

He turned to Ethan for a moment, almost apologetically. "Hang on a sec, Brit Boy -"

And then, in one savage motion, Caleb snapped the neck of the holy man, his body collapsing in a dead heap on the floor.

Casually, the ex-priest turned back to his 'guest,' leaning against the wall. "Now, you were saying somethin'?"

Ethan had to fight the surprise and shock that came as a consequence of the crazed Southerner's actions. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Yes. Well…as you now know, the weapon isn't here. But -"

The middle-aged Englishman flinched as he saw the ire in the younger man's eyes begin to fire up, the maniacal ex-preacher taking several menacing steps forward. "Rayne, I swear by all that is foul and unholy, that if you sent me here on a wild goose chase just for a laugh at my expense -"

"Oh, it was nothing of the sort, mate, I can assure you," Ethan said quickly, giving Caleb a smile that was way too phony to be genuine and far too shaky to be arrogant.

"I ain't your 'mate', limey," Caleb said menacingly. "And you'd do well to remember just who you're dealing with, lest I get…ornery."

Ethan sighed, feigning boredom to cover his growing dread of this deranged maniac. In Ethan's mind the sooner he could give Caleb the new intel and get as far out of his way as possible, the better. "Of course. Well, as I was saying, it turns out I'd been supplied with…outdated information."

At this point, he handed the envelope to Caleb, who rudely snatched the parcel from Ethan's hand before impatiently tearing the flap open to pour over the pages of pictures and documents.

After a minute of studying the pages, Caleb bitterly laughed to himself as he realized that the joke truly was on him. "You gotta be kidding me. After all this time, driving to just about every damn church and monastery in California…"

"…it was right under our noses, all along? Yes, I'm afraid so," Ethan smirked. "Apparently, the Shadow Valley Vineyard was built atop the remains of an old Sunnydale church, one of several swallowed up during the 1932 earthquake. The records had been lost for decades. Still, you know what they say - it's not about the destination, it's all about the journey."

Upon hearing that, Caleb immediately lunged at the Britain-born mage, clutching his throat as he held him high in the air, delighting in Ethan's choking sounds and bulging eyes.

"Did you just make fun of me, fella?" Caleb growled.

"Wouldn't…dream…of it," Ethan gurgled out. "I was…merely…making…_mmgh…_an observation…"

After several moments, Caleb let go of the British man, leaving him gasping and clutching his throat after Ethan dropped back down to the ground.

"There are several…workers, trying to - _ahem! _- excavate the weapon at the moment," Ethan rasped out, rubbing his tender windpipe. He noticed his hand stained with the blood of the monks afterwards, but ignored it as he added, "It's something of a chore, given all the layers of rock it's embedded in, but the job will be done. Plus, I've been instructed by _you-know-who _to inform you that your next task is to proceed to the vineyard, oversee the excavation of the weapon and await further orders. Retrieving that weapon is…of the gravest importance, apparently."

Caleb regarded his bloody right hand with interest, as he mulled over his new marching orders from the First. He didn't like getting those orders via a spineless little maggot like Rayne - he wasn't a true believer, like Caleb was. The Brit was just another power-hungry sinner looking to get in bed with the True Power for his own ends.

Just like that crazed vampire whore, or that goofy skinless kid and his magic-wielding whiny bitch.

Caleb wasn't here because he had to be...he was here because there was nowhere else on Earth he _wanted_ to be. Nowhere except here, now, ready to lay the old order to rest and usher in a new kingdom…a kingdom where blood flowed as freely as wine.

The Southern-born fanatic recalled a quote from St. Augustine of Hippo that he'd learned as a boy, one that had always stuck with him, regardless of which road he walked in life: "_He who loves the coming of the Lord is not he who affirms that it is far off, nor is it he who says it is near, but rather he who, whether it be far off or near, awaits it with sincere faith, steadfast hope, and fervent love_."

And Caleb certainly had faith, all right. Oh, did he ever, as all his mind was focused on that twisted 'faith' that the True Power he served would offer him the deliverance that he had sought from this prison of a world for so long.

"Is there anything else?" Caleb asked, now wanting to be rid of the smarmy Englishman so that he could collect his thoughts before heading for the Hellmouth.

"Actually, yes," Ethan said, knowingly. "There's a photograph at the bottom of the picture collection that our employer thought you might find…attention-grabbing."

His curiosity piqued - part of him hoping it would be the picture of this Slayer he had heard so much about - Caleb sifted through the photographs until he found the picture in question…

…a still photograph of Lindsey McDonald. Loading a duffel bag into his old navy-blue 1956 Chevy pickup truck.

For a moment, Ethan could see Caleb's eyes widen, and the right corner of his mouth twitch in amusement, his normally blue eyes clouded with some unreadable thought, perhaps a flicker of a memory.

"Rayne, when was this here picture taken?" Caleb asked, not taking his eyes off the picture.

"Approximately twenty-one hours ago, by my count. In a town called Clarity, out in the MidWest," Ethan replied casually. "I take it the place and/or the person in the picture has some special…significance to you?"

Caleb regarded the picture with great interest. "That was another lifetime ago, Teatime Boy," he replied absently. "Might as well have been a whole 'nother person."

"Well, I suspect your lifetimes are about to meet head-on, and sooner than you think," Ethan said cautiously. "That particular person was last seen in the company of a balance demon, a messenger for those ever-annoying Powers That Be, and a werewolf that used to be a part of the Slayer's little Sunday knitting club. Whoever that man is, apparently he's aligned himself with the other two, and for my money they're all probably on their way to Sunnydale right now."

As he took a harder look at the younger man, Ethan tried to gauge what was going on in the warped mind of this crazed faux-cleric. "I trust that's not going to pose a problem?"

After several moments, Caleb smirked, folding up the picture and tucking it into his pocket. Walking towards Ethan, the man thoroughly tainted by the First Evil smiled broadly as he gave the Englishman a hearty whack on his left shoulder…one that left Ethan clutching his shoulder tenderly.

"Naw, no problem at all. Matter of fact, shoot, ya just made mah day, you little English muffin, you! After all this time out on the road, all alone, what else does a man need to unwind a little…"

Caleb smiled sinisterly, staring out the door and off into the distance of the rainy night.

"…than to get a mite closer to family?"

* * *

**LA - The Sewers**

**Now**

* * *

Angel stared in shock at the woman in front of him. "Kate," he said, sounding even more breathless than usual.

Kate offered him a smirk, amused at Angel's astonishment. "You were expecting someone else, hero?"

From the corner, in Spike's grip, Golden watched the interaction between the ex-cop and the immortal detective with great suspicion. "Kate, you know this fool?"

"_We'll_ ask the questions 'ere, Sonny Jim," Spike retorted gruffly as he held the teen firmly against the wall.

With a roll of her eyes, Kate holstered her firearm. "You wanna tell your boy to back off, so I can do the same?"

For a moment, Angel was about to call out to Connor, until he realized that Kate was referring to Spike - which immediately made him grimace. "He's _not_ my bo - no, never mind. _Spike_! Drop him. Everyone else, back off."

While it annoyed him no end to appear as if he took orders from Captain Cranium without question, Spike opted for the safer solution for Dawn's sake as he shoved the glowering Golden away, the rest of the combatants standing down as well.

"'Spike'?" Golden asked, eyeing the platinum-blonde man skeptically.

"Yeah, that's me name. What of it, punk?" Spike daringly replied.

Golden bristled, as he moved threateningly towards Spike. "What'd you call me?"

"Golden. _Stand down_," Kate sternly warned him, even though she never took her eyes off Angel. "No need to start a bloodbath - yet."

With a sigh, Faith helped the girl called Holly to her feet. She'd gone through three major fights within the last hour, and while she loved a good throwdown as much as the next Slayer, even her strength had its limits.

The two groups shuffled into their respective neutral corners, each member guardedly eying the other side, as Angel and Kate continued to converse.

"So. Kind of a motley crew you've got going here," Angel said, regarding the street kids flanking Kate.

The ex-policewoman scoffed. "You guys taken a look in the mirror lately?" Kate paused, reconsidering that statement. "All right, I guess personally you don't bother. But you can't be much better off than us, with a couple of kids…" she looked at Connor and Dawn. "…a guy with radioactive hair…" She looked at Spike. "And…hey, wait a minute…"

Kate gave Faith the evil eye, finally recognizing her. "Didn't I lock you up for murder-two?"

Faith smirked sardonically at the ex-cop. "Yup. But I decided to bust out. Y'know, things to do, worlds to save, and so on. Does that count as good behaviour?"

Off Kate's questioning, very cop-like stare, Angel pseudo-sighed. "Long story, possible end of the world…be a lot easier if you could just buy the DVD."

Connor, who had positioned himself closer to Dawn (who didn't mind his proximity in the slightest) was still on guard. Without thinking of the implications he asked, "Dad, you know these people?"

Again, Kate turned very curious eyes to her old associate and one-time crush, her long eyelashes blinking in confusion. "Did that kid just call you '_dad_?'"

With a groan, Angel rubbed his right temple. This was getting ever more complicated by the second. "Again…long story, DVD."

To his surprise, Kate gave the Champion an amused smirk. "Well, obviously _someone's_ been a busy little beaver in the last two years."

As he regarded her outfit - a durable, yet very form-fitting navy blue LAPD S.W.A.T. Team uniform with chest-plated armor, black combat boots, a firearm to her right hip, a small crossbow on her left hip and what appeared to be the handle of a small battle-ax behind her - Angel raised an eyebrow.

"I could easily say the same for you," Angel pointed out. _And to think, I thought you left town..._

Kate shrugged. "Yeah, well, not all of us have superpowers to fall back on when the sun decides to do a disappearing act. But enough of the small talk - what the hell are you and your posse doing down here?"

"Like I said, lady, _we'll_ ask the questions," Spike gruffly cut in, earning him a hard glare from Kate.

Suddenly, a loud, eerie clattering sound echoed in the tunnels, drawing everyone's attention.

Dawn nervously looked at Angel. "O-okay, while we're on the subject of questions - what the hell was that?"

The young red-headed boy answered with a grim, somewhat frightened reply, "It's back!"

As Angel turned to Kate for answers, the ex-cop shook her head. "No time to explain. If you want to live, all of you, get your asses in gear, and follow me!" Kate then took off with her entourage immediately following her.

Turning back to the others, Angel nodded his head in Kate's direction, motioning for Connor, Dawn, Faith and Spike to follow her; both groups heading down through the dark tunnels. Thus it wasn't all that long until they reached their destination, a grated-off and fenced-off alcove in the heart of the sewers.

Spike took a long look at the bleak surroundings. It was more like a hunted animal's nest than anything else; nothing but cement walls, liquid stains in several corners, that ever-so-aromatic sewer smell…it was all starting to make that Yorkshire mineshaft he and the other Whirlwind members had been stuck in a century ago look like the Trump Plaza Hotel.

"Well. Gotta say…really like what you've done with the place," Spike said in his typical sarcastic way.

"Yeah, um, real…comfy," Dawn offered politely, although unconvincingly.

Meanwhile, Angel and Kate sealed off the grates at the entrance, the meticulous police detective inspecting the opening carefully and checking it for any weaknesses.

"So, you're sure it's secure?" Angel questioned, to which Kate nodded.

"It's held so far," she replied, proudly adding, "Built the defenses from scratch myself."

The words offered Angel, who muttered an unconvinced 'uh-huh,' little comfort as he scanned their makeshift hideout. The place might be good as a temporary pit stop; but to be frank, it simply wasn't up to the task of holding out over the long term - especially not against 'it,' whatever 'it' was.

Which meant that, sooner or later, they were going to have to find that thing before _it_ found _them_.

"Not to be a worry-wart here, but…held against what, exactly?" Faith wondered aloud. She hated not knowing anything about whatever beastie she would face. At least with vampires, it was simple - stake to the heart, cut off their head, or set 'em on fire if there was no sun present. Other demons had so many variables. So the sooner she knew what was hunting them, the sooner, Faith hoped, she could figure out how to kill it.

"Don't know. Never gotten close enough for a good look. But it's not like anything I've ever seen," Golden explained.

Angel turned his eyes to Kate, determined to get some answers. "Kate, uh, look. I'm kind of in the middle of something pretty big right now. As in end-of-the-world, big. I promise - if we can help you, we will. But you need to tell me everything. Starting with how the hell you ended up here."

Kate bristled at Angel's take-charge attitude. "You're playing twenty questions with me, after you and yours wandered onto _my_ turf?"

"_Kate_," Angel said a little more sternly, before softly imploring her, "Please."

After a beat, Kate sighed somewhat guilty. While she and this undead private detective had had their differences over the years, she had eventually come to understand that no matter what, all Angel wanted to do was help. So, she started at the beginning.

"I did a lot of soul-searching after you saved my life, that night after I got kicked out of the force," Kate said, recalling those very difficult beginnings. "Between the money from the insurance policy my dad had left to me in his will, and my LAPD severance package, I was pretty well off financially. I thought about leaving LA for good, starting again somewhere new. Somewhere less crazy. Maybe New Mexico, or some place like that. Nevada. Maybe even Ohio.

"But, in the end…I couldn't do it. I just couldn't leave town. Felt like after meeting you, I'd started something I had to finish. So I stayed, opened up a small antiquities business on the corner of 35th and Hixon Avenue. Developed some connections, learned more about the darker side of life…the side where things go bump in the night. Kicked up my fight training; stocked up on a lot of weapons, too, and learned how to use 'em. Still wasn't sure what I was planning on doing with my life, though."

Kate then motioned to her young companions. "One night when I was out for a walk on Terrace Avenue, I ran into Golden and these other kids here; they were knee-deep in a vampire attack. Golden's older brother, Tommy, he was running a demon-hunting crew; kinda like your friend Gunn. Well, I decided to join in the fight, dusted all the vamps…and it became the start of a beautiful friendship. I offered them a place to stay, food and water, and all they had to do was keep fighting the good fight with me every night. Things were actually going pretty well..."

Kate broke off, bitterness suddenly etched all over her face. "And then, we lost the sun. That's when everything went to hell."

Angel nodded, recalling the fallout of the Permanent Midnight. "I know the feeling," he said quietly.

"We stayed topside as long as we could, tried to hold onto our turf," Golden broke in, equally bitter as he recalled the endless fighting that had ensued during the Permanent Midnight. "But there were just too many of 'em. We go out every day and check the traps, but I don't think we've caught anything today…not countin' y'all, of course."

Bored with all the small talk, Connor walked over to one of the grates. Angel wasn't the only one worried about security in a dump like this. If there was one lesson he had learned well from Holtz, it was this - always be mindful of your surroundings.

Concerned as she watched her boyfriend's actions, Dawn broke off from the conversation, walking over to the handsome, yet broody teenage boy.

"Connor?" she asked cautiously. "You okay?"

Taking notice of her presence, Connor gave Dawn a brief smile before resuming checking the sturdiness of the grates. "Fine. I'm just…I've got a bad feeling about this."

Dawn sighed, thinking she knew what he meant. "Yeah, well, there's strength in numbers. Whatever this new 'creature feature' is, we can handle it. You'll see."

"Not that," Connor shook his head. "Or at least, it's not _just_ that. It's…about Cordy."

Dawn raised her eyebrows, a hint of insecurity creeping into her voice. "Oh."

Catching the slight note of jealousy in his new girlfriend's voice, Connor quickly clarified his statement. "Uh, no! Not that! It's just…the baby. I've got a bad feeling that whatever's coming…it's going to be really bad. And…" he looked down, feeling guilty. "And basically, it's all my fault. That thing exists in this world because of me. Because I...I gave in to the Beastmaster's tricks during a moment of weakness, and now, it's going to kill Cordelia and everyone else. And it's all because of me."

Dawn's eyes softened as she saw the forlorn look in Connor's eyes. She reached out and gently took hold of one of his hands, busily inspecting a grate.

"Hey. Look at me."

As his eyes met hers, Dawn gave Connor a soft smile. "That's not gonna happen, because we're gonna stop it. Whatever the 'baby' is, it can't beat all of us. Especially if you're on our side. We're going to beat this thing, Connor. I know it looks bad right now, but it'll get better. I promise you, it will."

Dawn's heart melted at the small half-smile he gave her, as his fingers intertwined with hers. Connor was quickly oblivious to everything else, staring into the bottomless blue eyes of the girl standing opposite him.

That was why neither of the two lovebirds noticed the small red-haired boy approach them, until his small, raspy voice startled them both.

"You guys are together. I can tell…" the smiling boy's eyes flitted to Dawn, who stared curiously at the child clutching his spear close to him like a favorite toy.

After giving her a shy smile, the boy turned back to Connor, eying the Destroyer with undisguised fascination. As if Connor was ten feet tall or something. "I saw how you fight. You're strong. I'm Matthew."

"Dawn."

"Connor." After giving the boy a brief nod, the son of two vampires resumed checking for any weaknesses in the bolt-hole's defenses.

"Nice to meet you," Dawn smiled politely at the little boy, who she found really cute, in a lost innocence, post-apocalyptic kind of way.

"You guys really know how to live," she overheard Faith reply to Golden, who replied, "It's alright."

"It's okay. All the other ways in are grated off. We checked," Matthew assured Connor, but the young warrior didn't make eye contact.

"I prefer checking things out personally. Helps keep me alive," Connor replied curtly as he continued to look around, not noticing the hurt look on the boy's face.

Dawn was surprised at Connor's suddenly cold behavior, especially towards this adorable little boy. _Is he really this worried that this is all his fault? _she wondered_. Is that why he's acting like this?_

"Kinda young, isn't he?" Faith asked quietly as her observant eyes fell upon Matthew.

Dawn also found herself watching the young boy curiously, as he trailed behind Connor. Like a young child hanging around an older brother. "Younger than me, even," she noted sadly.

Unfortunately, Dawn could relate to Matthew right now. Growing up in the same house as a Vampire Slayer, she, too, had to learn to grow up quickly, had to learn that the things that went bump in the night were more likely to tear out your heart than just be figments of your imagination.

"We found him in a pile-up on La Brea," Golden informed them, briefly glancing over at Matthew.

Kate, responding to another inquisitive glance from Angel, further elaborated. "A few nights after the sun went out, some vamps laid tire traps on the road, decided to have themselves a little car-wreck picnic."

Spike sagely nodded. "Oh, yeah, that old gag. Used to call it the 'Yogi Bear', if I recall right. That's more for the newbie vamps, though, the ones that still haven't learned how to hunt. Kinda low rent for my tas - OW!" Spike yelped as Faith elbowed him sharply, her burning brown eyes urging him to keep quiet as Kate eyed the British vamp suspiciously before continuing her tale.

"The poor kid watched them murder his parents. They were coming after him too, when we showed up." Kate's eyes hardened, as she recalled how her own father had met his death at the hands of vampires three years ago. "Hadn't had that much pleasure dusting vampires in a while. Even set a few of them on fire."

Surprised and saddened, Dawn bit her lip, her heart breaking for the boy. _That poor kid. He's had to deal with so much._

She wasn't the only one who heard, Connor's supernaturally acute hearing picking up every word said. Connor suddenly felt guilty, as he thought about how he'd just brushed off the boy's interest in him. Connor had been able to kill almost any demon when he was that age in Quor-toth - he'd had to, if he and Holtz were to survive, and eat. But he'd had his vampire-inherited speed and strength to fall back on.

All Matthew had to fight with was his spear…and he didn't even have that, when those undead bastards had killed his parents.

Taking a look at his soiled hands, dark with soot from checking the grates, Connor saw an opening to make amends with the boy.

"Hey, uh, Matthew, right?" Connor said absently, turning to the redheaded male with a small smile. "You got any water in this place?"

The boy's expression brightened. "Yep! We tapped a clean water pipe right over here," he replied, eagerly heading to the other side of the makeshift lair.

As Connor washed the hands with the clean water streaming from the pipe, he never noticed Dawn giving him a warm smile, silently proud of him for making such a gesture to Matthew.

"Anyway, I knew about this place. I used to crash here some nights when the missions were full," Holly shrugged, guardedly sharing a small piece of her back story.

"So we hit a supermarket that hadn't burnt down yet, got some supplies and went underground," Golden explained. "Been down here ever since. About two weeks and change."

Taking a look at the dingy den, Faith wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Uh, no offense, but two weeks down here, and I'd be ready to head straight back to the slammer."

"Yeah, well, it might not be deluxe accommodations, but we were holdin' our own," Golden countered. "Occasional baddie lookin' for a place to sleep, nothin' we couldn't handle. Till that…thing…out there moved into our territory. It's been pickin' us off ever since."

Both Golden and Holly suddenly grew solemn, sad.

"It got Tommy almost a week ago. He was out resetting the traps," Holly said quietly and Dawn gave the girl a sympathetic glance.

"Gotta give you lot your due, stayin' down 'ere this long," Spike said pensively. Even his old crypt was like a posh hotel suite, compared to this place.

"Worse up there, ain't it? The world is ending. What does it matter where we go?" Holly replied, morosely.

"Besides, whatever that evil son-of-a-bitch is, it killed our people. Killed my brother. So we're gonna kill him right back," Golden declared, a determined look in his eyes.

Upon hearing that, Angel turned to the former Detective Lockley. "Kate. A word?"

Nodding, Kate followed Angel to the far end of the makeshift stronghold as they began talking in hushed whispers.

"You can't last much longer down here," Angel told her quietly. "Only a pipe for water, and six people to feed? You and the others will be dead in days; if not by starvation, then by that thing out there."

"Well, what do you expect me to do, Angel?" Kate replied defensively. "Try to make peace with…whatever the hell that thing is? Not all of us have the luxury of being immortal and nearly invincible. We're all alone down here. What, are you expecting me to grab a magic ladder, reach into the sky and somehow turn the sun back on? All I can offer these kids now is a little bit of comfort, for however much longer we've got."

"You mean…you don't know?" Angel suddenly got a look of astonishment on his face.

"Know _what_?"

"Kate…the sun's been back for days now," Angel clarified, drawing a wide-eyed look of shock from the former police detective. "Well…it's not shining right at the moment, I mean it's just past midnight, but whatever, you get what I'm saying."

"Wha…How-?" Kate demanded, still looking utterly shocked.

"Uh, I killed the thing that had blocked out the sun. Well, Angelus did anyway," Angel uncomfortably admitted. "Whatever, the point is, it's back. So you don't need to stay down here anymore."

Kate mulled over the sudden good news, before she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Even with the lights back on, we can't reach the nearest manhole to the surface any longer. Once we get any further than a hundred feet of here, that's when that thing strikes. We used to be a unit of twenty fighters; but we lost three of our people during the blackout and twelve others, including Tommy, to that creature over the last eight days. We're running out of options and running out of time."

"Then let's rush it. Together, all of us," Angel said, a plan formulating in his mind. "We strike fast and hard, and we don't let it get away."

"Are you _crazy_?" Kate hissed, regarding the vampire as if he'd just declared he was joining Wolfram & Hart. "That thing has already taken out three-quarters of my crew, and we haven't been able to so much as get a good look at it! What makes you think _you_ can do better?"

"The fact that you have four of us here now with some…otherworldly abilities, and at least one of us - namely me - does this sort of thing professionally," Angel replied, meeting the skeptical blue-eyed gaze of the former cop. "Kate…this might be your only shot at survival. So, if not for yourself, do it for the people who are counting on you to keep them alive. Besides - aren't you tired of living down here like a sewer rat, waiting to die at that thing's hands? Aren't you tired of being afraid?"

Angel was passionately trying to convince Kate to take action. Whatever this thing was, it was now standing between him and reaching Buffy, Cordelia and his friends back at the hotel. Therefore, that meant that whatever this thing was…it had to go down, hard. Besides the fact, Angel always had a soft spot for helping the underdog. And this group of ragtag kids fit that description to the letter.

Kate sighed as she mulled her options. Unfortunately, Angel was right. They were running low on supplies, and both she and her crew were living on borrowed time being holed up down here. But she had seen what that thing could do. How swiftly it could strike, and how deadly the results were. Even with Angel's assistance, how could they realistically expect to stand up against that thing?

Still, something that the Champion had told her did hit home. She was tired of being afraid, tired of running, tired of…of being tired. Wasn't dying on their feet better than living on their knees, waiting for that thing to pick them off at its leisure?

Kate sighed as she quietly recalled something that Angel once told her years ago. "_If nothing that we do matters, then all that matters_…"

"…_is what we do. Because that's all there is_," Angel finished the quote for her, giving her a small, encouraging smile. That last bit of assurance was all Kate needed as she nodded in consent.

With that, Angel quickly strode to the other corner of the lair, swiping a sword off the floor. Outraged, Golden took several aggressive steps in front of Angel.

"Hey, that belonged to Tommy." he growled.

Angel nonetheless stood his ground, unintimidated as he took command. "Yeah? Well, for now, it belongs to me." He turned to the others. "All of you, load up. Let's go get professional on that evil son-of-a-bitch's ass and then head back to the surface."

The Irish-born vampire saw the expressions on the faces of Kate's people and quickly explained, "The sun's been back for a while now, so the nightmare's almost over. Grab your weapons and let's go."

Without another word, Angel began walking out into the sewers, the black leather duster flapping behind him.

"Well, now we're talking," Faith chirped up as she and the others began following Angel out into the sewer passage.

"Is it true? About the sun being back?" Golden asked Kate in awe.

"Apparently," Kate replied.

"Kate, level with me. Do you trust this guy?" Golden asked, still doubtful.

After a moment, Kate nodded. "Yeah, Golden. I do."

"Still don't like him grabbing Tommy's sword like that, though. Or being ordered what to do like some kinda robot," Golden grumbled.

Empathically, Spike turned to Golden just before they headed out to join the others. "Yeah, well, he does that a lot, mate. A real Johnny BossyBoots, that one. Personally, I think the Big Pouf just needs a good hard shag from some bird or other, to get it all outta his system...like a colon cleaning for the soul."

* * *

Armed with spears, swords and a variety of other weapons, Angel's and Kate's crews walked through the tunnels - Angel, Connor and Spike scouting up ahead, tracking the demon with their supernaturally heightened sense of smell. Dawn was in the center with the others, and Faith took up the rear of the group next to Kate as added muscle, while the rest of the crew kept a sharp lookout for their quarry.

While the others were busily scanning the tunnels for any signs of life, Dawn, who noticed how close Angel was, looked back sadly at the youths Kate had taken under her wing. "They're just kids."

"Strength in numbers," Angel said shortly.

Dawn could not help protesting, "Yeah, but Angel..."

"They just wanna strike back, Dawn, at something. Anything," Angel replied, briefly musing over the frustration that he'd been feeling over the last few weeks. "I know how that feels. And I'm sure you do, too, what with everything that's been happening with the First in Sunnydale lately."

Dawn couldn't argue with that. _All those Potentials the Bringers have been killing lately, not to mention that attack on the Winnebago as we tried to get to LA..._

"This is where Tommy got taken," Matthew said as they rounded the corner, coming to a stop at one particular large open area.

"What the hell's that smell?" Faith asked, revolted by a strong chemical odor that for some reason, reminded her of that Stockton prison.

"It's ammonia," Angel said. Suddenly, he caught a whiff of something else. Something that definitely wasn't a rat, or human…

Connor tensed, brandishing his sword as he scanned the area, no doubt having smelled it as well.

"I reckon we've got company, kiddies," Spike said warningly.

A growling sound was heard, and the next thing they knew, Golden was crying out as he was snatched up into a vertical pipe.

"Golden!" Holly cried out.

"**NO**!" Kate shouted, aiming her pistol before she stopped, realizing that a bullet would most likely kill Golden from this angle. "Angel, _do_ somethi -"

No sooner had he seen the youth disappear up into the pipe, though, that Angel, in another burst of supernatural power, leapt upwards, flying up into the pipe after him. A clash of steel, two loud, inhuman growls and several loud crashing noises were heard for a few moments before Golden dropped down out of the pipe onto the floor.

Immediately, Kate and Holly went over to his side, checking him out for injuries.

A few moments later, Angel jumped down out of the pipe, his back turned. Matthew, smiling in admiration, walked up to thank him…

…only to be greeted by the sight of Angel's vampire face, fangs and all.

The boy's expression immediately changed from admiration to one of abject horror. Instantly Matthew ran for it, frightened out of his wits.

Dismayed, Angel shouted out to him, "Matthew, it's okay!"

"Matt!" Kate called out.

"Matthew, wait!" Connor yelled, running after the kid with Angel right behind him.

Faith pursed her lips, knowing that things had just got a whole lot more complicated; what with their forces being split up like this. "Damn. That's not goo - _aah_!"

Faith cried out in pain as something suddenly reached from behind the grated sewer walls and grabbed her, trying to yank her through the flimsy grating and into the walls.

Immediately, Spike turned, sword in hand, and swung at whatever had grabbed Faith, hacking away at the creature's oddly sick-green arms and claws.

Realizing that the demon wasn't about to let go, Spike knew he needed more power.

"Alright, Green Bean, you wanna play rough?" His handsome, well-angled features shifted, and out came Spike's demonic game face. "Fine by me..."

With that, the ensouled vampire grabbed the arm strangling Faith and, in one motion, ripped it clean off, rewarded with the invisible creature's howl of pain before it clattered away, releasing its hold on Faith.

Faith fell forward, bowling over Spike as the two came tumbling down together, Faith suddenly finding herself on top of Spike as his face returned to its human guise.

Despite the gravity of the situation, when Faith's brown eyes met Spike's blue ones, both of them froze. Spike swore he could have felt his undead heart nearly beat for a moment as Faith stared down at him, dark locks of hair dangling above his face, feeling the firmness and softness of her toned-to-perfection female body lying against his own.

Faith, meanwhile, stared down at Spike, surprised by how well-muscled the undead guy beneath her was. And just how blue those eyes were when viewed up close like this…

"Um…thanks," Faith said, suddenly a little unsure of herself.

"Welcome, pet, anytime," Spike smirked, which allowed Faith to roll her eyes as she helped him up.

Kate turned and looked at Angel, now in human face, who was returning with Connor from their fruitless pursuit of Matthew. "That thing's still out there. We can't let Matthew roam around alone in the tunnels, it'll kill him!"

"We'll find him, Kate," Angel assured her.

"Bloody hell," Spike pseudo-sighed, as he grabbed Faith's hand. "Come on, then, luv, we've got us another missing kid to find. It's that kind of bloody night, innit?" he asked rhetorically, darting a look at Connor who just scowled back at him.

"We'll be back," Faith called back to the others as they ran off after the boy.

Angel growled, seriously annoyed. He was through pussyfooting around with this particular enemy; it was time to get serious. "That thing is really pissin' me off. Connor, Dawn..."

He trailed off, suddenly realizing that Buffy's little sister was not present any longer. She wasn't…anywhere.

Connor, suddenly panicked, turned to Angel in concern. "Dad…where's Dawn ? ?"

* * *

Squealing in fright, Dawn was tossed against the wall of another sewer, the lair of her unseen captor.

"Ow, ow, ow - my head," Dawn groaned, taking a moment to gather her bearings before she looked up…

…and gasped, recoiling in fright at the sight of her captor - a sickly green, three-prong clawed, spike-headed, insect-like demon.

The demon stalked closer to her and snarled in an inhuman, almost jealous voice, "We loved her first!"

Dawn, rather amazed that this demon could speak English, and completely frightened, could only stammer a confused response: "W-w-w-what?"

The demon angrily clicked its talons, hissing at the pretty female teen. "We. Loved. Her. FIRST!"

The former Key was bewildered. Her? Who was 'her'? Whatever this ugly-bugly was, it wasn't making any sense.

"I, I don't understand. Who - what are you t-talking about?" Dawn asked, unsure what to say.

Growing more irate, the demon plunged his claws against the wall opposite both sides of Dawn's head, causing her to scream in fright. The creature then leaned in, its breath stinking of something putrid and rancid which caused Dawn's stomach to wretch, as the demon shouted its strange mantra:

"WE. LOVED. HER. _**FIIIII-RRRST**_!"

Panting in fear, Dawn tried to process what was going on. Crying out for Angel, Spike, Connor, Faith or the others would more than likely get her killed. And there was no way she could fight her way out of this situation. But she had a hunch that they'd be able to track her down by scent; especially her new boyfriend. Dawn had heard it mentioned that Connor could track down anything, anywhere, anytime.

That being said, she had only one option in order for that to happen - stall for time.

"O-o-okay," Dawn said, her voice wavering as she attempted to calm herself. "R-right. You…loved her, um, first." _Whatever 'her' it is you're talking about, you ugly freak show_!

"Before your kind was, my kind loved her," the demon explained indignantly. "Stood on stone, built the temple. Always making ready…" Suddenly, the demon began to squeal and then, it began to cry mournfully. As if grieving a dead loved one.

"Ohh…but she came here. Came to be born to this world. Wretched world. Filthy world," the insect-like thing said to the Key.

"Born to this…?" Dawn suddenly realized what this crazy creature was talking about. "You mean - _Cordy's baby_?"

The demon cocked its head to one side. "Eh?"

"Uh…the…vessel for the…the 'she' that…you loved first. Um, before us. Way, _waaay_ before us," Dawn clarified, trying to placate the creature.

Snorting, the demon regarded her disdainfully. "Pfah! You not even comprehend what she is. Filthy little mice!" The insect-like creature broke off, staring to the ceiling in reverence. "She is the devourer…the song…the peace…the whole. And you not even comprehend what she is!"

The demon suddenly snarled as it began to menace Dawn again…only to be distracted when a glob of bloody viscera fell to the ground in front of a now-horrified (even-more-so-than-before) Dawn. _Oh, God - gross, gross, gross!_

Annoyed, the insect-like thing groaned. "Work to do," it shrugged its grotesque shoulders, moving to resume whatever task it was performing - before it suddenly snapped its head back to Dawn.

"We loved her first!" it shouted out jealously, suddenly leaping up with amazing agility up a wall on its hind legs, grabbing a torch as it moved about a wall…a wall covered in what appeared to be human remains, flesh, organs and other viscera strewn around and sewn in an abhorrent, ungodly pattern.

For a moment, Dawn felt the urge to vomit, but she managed to force herself to calm down. Panicking now would only get this thing angry. And an angry insect whatchamacalit almost certainly meant a dead Dawn Summers.

So, taking a few deep breaths, she tried to keep her captor talking. Talking meant no killing, hopefully. "So, um…how does…how do, um, you a-and the others like you…define love?"

Without so much as a glance, the creature replied as it continued working on its macabre flesh puzzle, "Same as all bodies. Same as everywheres. Love is sacrifice."

The word 'sacrifice' did nothing to soothe Dawn's already frayed nerves. She'd reached her sacrificial lamb quota for this lifetime long ago, thank you. And she certainly didn't plan on sticking around to become another stain on this demon weirdo's homage to 'Silence of the Lambs'.

And yet…something that thing had just said tickled her mind. About the 'baby' in Cordelia's oven. Women's intuition told Dawn that maybe this thing knew the answer, or at least part of the answer, needed to get Cordelia back. But if she died, she'd never find out. That meant she had to keep this thing talking.

Meanwhile, the demon was fast at work, carving up the bodies hung on his cave wall. _Probably the bodies of those missing kids Golden was talking about,_ Dawn realized in horror, before looking to the left and spotting an open door.

"Um, that door's open," she said cautiously, before gesturing carefully. "Aren't you…y'know, worried that I'll run away?"

"Hm. Not worried," the demon said, without a glance back. "Good at catching furries."

Nervously, Dawn cleared her throat. "Obvious, much?" She tried again. "So…you're not from around here…are you?"

The insect-thing stopped its work and briefly turned around in a huff. "No. Other world. Older world."

A light blue orb off to the left, near the base of the wall where the demon was, caught Dawn's eye as the teen inched closer to it, the pretty trinket standing out like a sore thumb in this horrid place.

Sensing her movement, the creature laughed as it saw what Dawn was doing. "You go. Go on. Use my key. Visit. What we breathing there burn out little mouse lungs before you can make a peep."

_Gulp_, Dawn thought, as she quickly edged away from the orb. "Ooo-kay. No problem here."

"_No problem here. No problem here-here_," the demon parroted back her words in a mocking voice as it resumed its 'work.'

Dawn was taken aback by the bizarre creature's actions. _Hey, did Insect-Boy just make fun of me? I think he did! Oh, God - I just got insulted by a reject from the cast of 'Aliens'. I'm officially a loser now..._

Shaking off her musings, Dawn played close attention to the alien creature's flesh puzzle. "Um…what are you doing, exactly?"

"Spell," the demon replied. "Mmm, this blood magic. Flesh magic. Older than words. More much power. This magic, she will hear. When she born. She will hear and remember her true ones."

"Spell, huh?" Dawn asked, cautiously, her interest piqued. "So…you have an incantation ready?"

Looking offended, the demon scoffed, "Word magic? No words. She no give care about words. Pfah! _Word magic_."

"Oh," Dawn replied, as if intrigued, as she continued to pump the demon for information. "Does the one you, uh, loved first…does she really not care about the whole talking thing?"

"Only one word she -" the demon stopped, as if suddenly realizing it had said too much.

Dawn sensed it too. "One word she…what?"

The demon turned and hissed menacingly at her. "You is talky meat! Don't make me come down there."

Suddenly, a groan of pain caught their attention…a groan that came from the wall of flesh. From a recently-awakened vampire.

"Aah! My God! What is it with you, man? This is disgusting," the undead thing complained to the demon that had butchered it.

"You!" the insect-like demon cried out, surprised.

The vampire moaned in pain. "Will ya just drop the cliché serial killer crap, and just stake me already! Please!"

Confused, the insect-demon stared at the vampire. "I tear your guts all inside out. I stitch your guts every all over. Why don't you go dead?"

Just as the angry vampire cursed, "Why don't _you_ go fu -" the insect-thing reached over and tore the vampire's tongue out, casually discarding it just a few feet from Dawn.

"Pssh! More talky meat," the demon groused as it went back to work.

As the bloodied tongue landed in front of the youngest Summers woman, a grossed-out Dawn immediately thought, _Okay, this is now __**officially**__ the most disgusting night of my entire life!_

Shaking off the thought, Dawn kept talking. "You can't kill him, y'know, not that way. Because he's already dead. He's a vampire."

"Hmm, vampire. Like one with angry steel?" Insect-thing asked. "Or one that hurt me in tunnels?"

_Angry steel?...Oh_. "You mean Angel. And Spike." Dawn realized.

"Eh?" the demon uttered.

Dawn sighed. "Those are their names, the vampires who attacked you."

Yet again the demon scoffed, looking disgusted. "Stupid mouse creatures! Throwing names all over place all the time! That's why you so weak. Too many are knowing your names, take your power away."

_What the hell is Bug Boy talking about now?_ "Look, I think you might be a little confused," Dawn explained slowly. "I mean, it doesn't work that way here. It doesn't matter who knows your name, it's just a word…"

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in Dawn's brain as she realized that she might have just figured out the key to this whole situation. "That's it, isn't it? What you said before. The word that this 'she' you loved first cares about?"

The demon suddenly whirled around, angry red eyes blazing at the youngest Summers girl. "Shut."

"The baby's name. My God, _that's_ its weakness?" Dawn realized in amazement. She hadn't been there for Whistler's little history lesson at the Hyperion earlier tonight, after all.

Still, Dawn knew that it wasn't all that far-fetched; in the days before the Magic Box had been destroyed, she remembered Giles lecturing the Scooby Gang once about Kabbalistic theology, how people of that faith believed that naming God somehow took away His power...

"Shut! Shut! Shut! _Shut_!" the demon shouted furiously as it suddenly moved at incredible speed, shoving a surprised Dawn against the wall. "Shut! _Shut_! _**SHUT**_!"

* * *

"_How could this happen_?" a frustrated Connor demanded as he paced in the open sewer, angrily throwing his sword down. "There were ten of us, and nobody saw _anything_? We just _let_ it take Dawn?"

Throwing his son a sympathetic look, Angel undertook a quick scan of the area - lest the demon rear its head again and try to grab someone else - and then he squatted down on the floor, checking the area where Dawn had been.

"It must've looped its way around, come up on her from behind," Angel said grimly, trying to keep a cool head despite the fact that he was just as worried about Dawn as Connor was. The brunette female teen was someone special to Angel, and besides he had promised Buffy that he'd get her back safe and sound before he'd left the Hyperion. "It knows these tunnels better than we do. And it's fast."

Kate shook her head sadly, as she looked up at the ensouled vampire. "I'm sorry, Angel. But odds are, your friend's already dead. When that thing latches onto you, you're never seen or heard from agai -"

Upon hearing that Connor angrily approached the ex-cop, fear and anger rippling in his clear blue eyes. "_Don't_! Don't even _think_ that. Dawn is _not_ dead! _Do you hear me_?"

Angel laid a restraining hand on the boy. "Connor. _Enough_," he said sternly to the fruit of his loins. "You're right, Dawn's not dead. And she won't die either, not if I have anything to say about it. Look, I'll go track it down; you take the others back to their bolt-hole. Wait there for Spike and Faith."

"No! I'm coming with you," Connor protested immediately.

"_Connor_," Angel said, his voice becoming harder. "You're upset and angry right now, you're not in the right state of mind to hunt this thing down -"

"I said, _I'm. Coming. With. You_," Connor angrily snarled, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "I'm not playing babysitter in some stinking sewer, while some damned demon kidnaps my girlfriend!"

_Girlfriend_? Angel thought in surprise, thrown by Connor's sudden revelation. _Girl…where __have __I been, when the hell did this happen?_

Her gun locked and loaded, Kate told the vampire, "Kid's got a point. Best bet is for all of us to follow it to whatever hole it crawled into. Besides," she gestured at the dismembered claw-arm laying on the floor, "that's the first piece of this bastard we've ever gotten. It's finally wounded, so we should press the advantage. End this once and for all."

Kate had made a logical, rational argument. Still, Angel didn't like the idea of putting his son, Kate and the others in harm's way - but if they insisted on coming along, well, he couldn't stop all of them.

So Angel quickly relented, as he started for the nearest sewer. "Okay -"

But all of a sudden, he was met by a phalanx consisting of Golden and all the other street kids, all of them holding sharp wooden poles directed at Angel.

"Nuh-uh, Nosferatool. _Not_ okay. You think we didn't see it just now? You're one of _them_. You and that Billy Idol wannabe who bugged outta here, a few seconds ago," Golden eyed Angel angrily, his spear held fast, pointing straight at the undead detective's heart.

"Golden, what the hell are you doing?" Kate demanded.

"Do you know what he is?" Golden barked, looking at his female leader with suspicion written all over his face.

Kate exhaled wearily. "Yeah, I do. He's a vampire."

In shock, Golden stared at Kate in confused betrayal - yet the attractive ex-cop did not flinch, even with the boy scowling menacingly at her.

"Okay, then you and me are gonna have to have a little talk about that later. Right now, stand aside, 'cause I'm about to turn this bloodsucker to ashes," Golden replied coldly, returning his narrowed eyes to Angel.

"He just saved your life, remember?" Kate reminded him, looking to the others for support, but finding none in the eyes of the wary street youths.

Scoffing, Golden replied, "Sure, 'cause he wanted me for dinner later on, along with the rest of us!"

"Golden, it's not like that," Angel started.

"Yeah, he's telling you the…truth," Connor finished uneasily, suddenly realizing that he was actually defending his biological father - who also noticed it, and felt slightly grateful for his son's halfhearted defense.

Golden rudely brushed off Connor's words. "Excuse me? Not talkin' to the angry emo kid; talkin' to the vampire, thank you."

"All right, you saw what you saw, yeah, I can't deny that, but - " Angel said.

"But _what_?" Golden angrily demanded.

No sooner did the words leave his mouth than did Kate suddenly cock the hammer on her gun, aiming it straight at Golden, her eyes hard and serious. "But, if you don't put that thing down _right the hell now_ and let Angel go save that girl's life, I'll hold _you_ just as responsible for her death as that demon. _Got that_?"

In surprise, Golden's stunned dark eyes clashed with the level blue-eyed gaze of the former LAPD detective. "You gotta be kidding me! Kate…after everything we've been through, all the times we had your back, you're siding with this…undead leech?"

"I don't want to take sides, _Randall_, but that doesn't mean that I _won't_," Kate replied, using Golden's first name with her hands holding the firearm rock-steady. "Now listen carefully; I've known this guy for nearly four years. Angel has a soul, he's on our side, and like it or not, he's our best bet of making it out of this alive. Look, I don't expect you to understand, not without hearing the whole story - but trust me when I tell you to _stand. Down_."

Tired of the standoff and short on patience, Angel's dark brown eyes grew hard and cold as they bored into Golden.

"I don't blame you for feeling the way you do about me, but I'm not going to justify my existence to you. I wouldn't be able to, even if I tried," Angel said quietly, before his voice turned sharp and icy. "But what I can do is take that spear away from you, snap it in half and then break your neck in about half the time it would take for you to give it a good push. Or you and the others can just step aside, and let me go save Dawn. Your call, kid."

After a second, Golden and the rest of Kate's crew – albeit very reluctantly - lowered their weapons.

"Thank you." Turning to Kate and Connor, Angel motioned to the nearest sewer opening. "Come on. We have that thing on the ropes, time to deliver the knockout punch."

"All of you, head for the surface. You know where the nearest manhole is, and it should be safe enough now that that thing's wounded - I'll catch up with you later," Kate told her crew as she followed Connor and Angel off into the darkness.

Golden glanced at Holly, Trip and the others in turn, as the street kids just stared at one another indecisively.

* * *

**Insect-like demon's lair**

**A few seconds later**

* * *

Dawn was terrified as the demon held her fast against the wall, yet she continued to press onwards. She was onto something, and she knew it. She just needed to keep pressing and confirm her suspicions.

"This 'she' has a name, and it has power over her! That's why it's a secret!" Dawn said, growing more fervent as she began to connect the dots.

Suddenly, the insect-like demon staggered backwards, holding its grotesque claws over its head, like a child refusing to hear an unpleasant statement.

"La-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la! Not listening!" the creature sang, shaking its head.

Now, Dawn _really _knew she was onto something. Despite the danger of the situation, she continued to speak, and press for information. "Th-that's it, isn't it? That _is_ what its weakness is! Is that how we can destroy what's possessing Cordelia?"

Suddenly, the demon seized her throat, Dawn squealing in horror as it slammed her against the wall.

"What it matter, eh?" the demon snarled at a wide-eyed and struggling Dawn. "Eh, talky meat? I don't keep the name. High priest keep the name! And you about to go dead, about to be a smear on my flesh spell."

It reared its deadly claw back, ready to punch it right through Dawn's chest. "I just messenger from the ones who love truly."

Dawn closed her eyes and waited for the fatal blow. _Connor, Buffy…I'm sorry…_

"Well, then…" a familiar voice rang out, "I guess it's time we shoot the messenger."

The demon and Dawn both turned to see the owner of that voice - a scowling Angel, brandishing a sword, flanked by an angry-looking Connor and a gun-wielding Kate.

"Or, you know, chop the messenger into little bitty pieces, whatever," the undead Champion shrugged.

"Less talking, more killing!" Kate shouted as she took aim and fired two shots into the demon's sternum, drawing thick, black blood.

Hissing in pain, the demon dropped Dawn before it angrily charged towards the white hats. Angel and Kate - holstering her gun in favor of using her battle-axe - kept the demon at bay, while Connor immediately rushed to Dawn's aid.

"You okay? Did it hurt you?" he asked, concerned as he checked Dawn out for injuries.

Briefly taking comfort in his strong embrace, Dawn slowly got to her feet. "I'm fine. Hey, don't worry about me, go do that sexy hero thing you do and kill that thing. Hurry!"

"You should get out of here, go find the others," Connor told her, referring to Spike and Faith as his eyes took on their familiar killer-like glare and he jumped into the fray.

The creature was faster than he'd expected, however, as it grabbed Angel and threw him across the room into the wall next to Dawn. While it was distracted with his father, Connor took the opportunity to hack away at the creature's tough, scaly skin with his sword.

"Tough little bastard, aren't you?" Connor grunted as he wound up for another attack. But the demon was ready for him now, batting aside the sword before using its powerful tail to hurl Connor aside, sending the teen warrior sprawling onto the ground.

Kate stepped in, unloading on the creature with seven well-aimed shots that pierced its torso, arms and two of its hind legs. The creature only growled in annoyance at her, ready to attack…

…when Kate switched back to her battle axe, spinning out of the creature's reach before taking a good, hard chop at one of its legs, the creature crying out in pain as Lockley took part of its leg off.

As she reared the axe back for another blow Kate balefully glared at the creature, unbridled hate in her eyes. "You killed Tommy, and you killed a lot of my people. But all that stops here, ugly. Say good night, you -"

Kate never noticed the creature's tail slowly snaking its way around her ankle until it was too late, the tendril sweeping her leg out from under her and hoisting her up into the air, the surprised ex-cop dangling helplessly.

The creature smiled, full of evil intentions, as it eagerly clamped one of its pincers around her gullet, ready to tear out the gagging ex-cop's throat. "Good night, mousie."

Suddenly, Angel's fist appeared out of nowhere to connect with the demon's face, causing it to drop a dazed Kate onto the floor, head-first, knocking her unconscious.

Armed once again with his sword, Angel and the insect-like demon did battle, the Champion delivering several sharp stabs into the creature's body, drawing a sickly dark-colored blood with each slice. But the fanatical demon was too resilient, and too stubborn to cease its assault. Finally, after evading a lethal swipe at its head, Insect-thing lashed out and knocked Angel to the far end of the room with a powerful blow.

When Angel stood up again, the demon stabbed him through the gut with his sharp pincers, causing Angel to bellow in pain as he was impaled upon the creature's claws.

"_**Angel**_!" Dawn screamed, as she saw the creature lift the hero up in the air on its arms.

Unbeknownst to Dawn, her blue eyes suddenly, briefly, sparked with a jade-green hue…

Insect-thing laughed at Angel's pain. "Stupid little mice. They always soft inside."

Without warning, Connor did a somersault roll through the air and attacked the demon's arm with his sword, cutting off that part of his pincer as Angel fell to the floor, wounded.

The angry creature snarled at Connor. "Wretched little..."

Connor delivered another angry swipe with his blade, trying to go for the head. The creature blocked the blow, however, and backhanded the male teen across the mouth, following up with a hard, clubbing blow to the head that knocked the dazed Connor down.

"No…" Dawn whispered as she saw her boyfriend fighting for his life against the monster. Angel was down, Kate was unconscious, and now, Connor was alone and losing the fight. If she didn't do something soon, they were all going to die, and she knew it.

For the second time, flecks of a jade-green light briefly lit up in Dawn's eyes…

Struggling to catch his breath as he lay on the ground, Connor tried to get in one last swipe at the demon, a last-ditch effort to obtain some breathing space. But the demon simply batted the sword away from the Destroyer of Quor-toth.

Staring down at the disarmed, defenseless boy, Insect-thing smiled wickedly as it raised its claws for the final death blow. "Time to go dead, mouse."

Dawn felt a scream rip out from her throat… "_NOOO_!"

…just as a dazzling burst of green energy, now fully illuminating her eyes and her mouth, burst forward from within her, bathing the demon from behind with its brilliantly bright and incredible power.

Angel, as he struggled to get his bearings, was utterly stunned at what he perceived was transpiring.

As the insect-like demon screeched in pain, its molecules shifting between various random dimensions which was literally tearing it apart from the inside out, Connor stared in complete awe at the scene before he registered that this powerful bolt of light was actually coming from his girlfriend. _How…how is that possible?_

As the green energy blast finally died down, Dawn suddenly swooned and fell to the floor, dazed and barely conscious.

Growling, the injured demon set its sights on the now vulnerable girl. "Wait your turn, talky!"

The moment of distraction, that small opening, was all Angel needed as he quickly picked up the pincer that Connor cut off the demon and plunged it deep into the demon's throat, twisting it to make sure the wound didn't close. Black blood spurted out from the mortal wound, as Insect-thing gasped in shock.

"Looking a little soft yourself in there, aren't ya, fella?" Angel snarled quietly.

The fatally wounded demon lurched and finally fell to the floor, rasping out one last, desperate, unholy prayer, "Devourer…this meat…I give…unto theeee..." And then it fell forever silent.

Staggering as he clutched the terrible wound in his stomach, Angel managed to make his way over towards his son, managing to help him up despite his injuries.

"Connor, are you -?" Angel asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," Connor assured him as he wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth, suddenly taking notice of Angel's wounds. "What about you? Are you okay?"

Angel groaned. "Uh, not really. But it'll heal. Go check on Dawn, I'll get to Kate."

No sooner did he say those words than did Connor rush towards Dawn, kneeling alongside her as he cradled her into his arms.

"Dawn?" he asked worriedly. "Dawn, please, wake up…"

Slowly, Dawn's eyes, now their regular deep blue color, fluttered open as she stared into her boyfriend's worried face, allowing Connor to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Is…is it over?" Dawn asked, her voice slightly groggy.

With a small smile, Connor nodded. "Yeah. At least, it is for Bug Face, anyway."

He took another long look at the tired teenage girl. "Dawn…how did you do that?"

The Key looked at him with confused and dazed eyes. "Hmng…do what?"

"You don't remember?" Connor asked, frowning. "That big green light show that came out of your face? How'd you do that?"

It took another moment before Dawn remembered the sudden surge of power that had unexpectedly blasted out of her, as she saw Insect-thing about to impale Connor. She had no idea what had happened...although the concept that she had tapped into a hitherto-unknown aspect of the Key energy to save her boyfriend's life did eventually occur to her.

_What's that really mean, though?_ Dawn asked herself. _Do I finally have a power now, like Buffy? Or was it just a one-off fluke? Could I do it again? SHOULD I do it again?_

Worried, she looked back up at Connor and said in reply to his question, "I…I don't know."

Meanwhile, Angel managed to help a groggy Kate to her feet. "Easy there, Kate, I've gotcha."

The ex-cop clutched her head in pain. "You get the license plate number of the truck that just hit me?"

Angel looked down at his stinging and bleeding ribs. "Yeah, well, better a headache than evisceration. Trust me, personal experience talking."

Making his way over to the two teenagers, Angel's eyes swept over both of them for serious injuries. "You two alright?"

Looking over a now steadier Dawn, Connor nodded. "I think so."

Remembering the green light of death that burned Insect-thing, Angel eyed Dawn curiously. "Dawn…what was…?"

"I don't know, I don't know!" Dawn exclaimed semi-angrily as she shook her head. "That never happened before. But that doesn't matter right now..." She suddenly darted over to the blue orb in the corner of the room, clutching it tightly as she returned to the group.

"Guys, from what I've learned, Bug Breath here was connected to the thing possessing Cordy," Dawn told the group.

That statement immediately drew the vampire's full attention. "_What_?"

"That demon, it came from a world that's worshipped…whatever the heck is possessing Cordelia…for, I think, years, maybe even centuries. A world that we can reach through this," Dawn said, holding up the blue sphere.

Connor was amazed. "Dawn, how do you know that?"

"Because that demon _told_ me. Well, in so many words," explained the youngest Summers girl, who then turned to Angel. "It gave away something about its weakness, the...baby, or whatever it is that's in Cordy's oven. It's its _name_, Angel. If we can get the name of the Big Bad, we can stop it!"

Angel sighed, not hearing anything he didn't already know. "Yeah, I know, Dawn. Whistler and Lindsey already told us this -"

"Wait, just listen!" Dawn interrupted him, as she pressed on. "That demon said something about a…a high priest! He's the one who keeps the name. And the odds are this high priest guy's located in Bug-Demon World, which we can access through THIS!" the Key held up the blue orb. "Which means we can take the fight directly to Evil Cordy on two fronts, right?"

Angel's eyes widened, as he considered Dawn's words. Not that he doubted Buffy and Darla's ability to fight through and reach Cordelia's soul, learn what she knew...but what if Cordy _didn't_ know the unborn Power's true name, after all? Whistler hadn't said that that was an absolute certainty, and it couldn't hurt to have a Plan B up his sleeve if worse came to worst as far as that ritual went.

Angel and Connor exchanged looks of realization, as they were each thinking the same thing; the universe just handed them their first real break.

"Angel?" a puzzled Kate asked. "What the hell's she talking about? What does all this mean?"

Taking the small globe from Dawn's hands as he held it in his large right palm, Angel stared at the trinket as all the implications of Dawn's revelations flashed through his mind.

"It means we might finally have what we need to save Cordy…_and_ the world," Angel murmured.

"Yeah. Just one problem…how does this thing work?" Connor asked, staring at the inanimate globe.

As the other three stared at Dawn, the pretty brunette teen's cheeks flushed red. "Um…I'm not exactly…clear on that?"

Angel groaned, as he suddenly realized that they were back at Square One again. Without a way to activate this thing, there was no way he could get to this high priest demon to get that name. And without that name, that meant that Buffy, Cordy, and Darla could very possibly die a horrible death.

The undead detective's keen eyes scanned the blue trinket for any clues on how to get it working. "Hmm. No inscriptions, no markings of any kind; no moving parts, far as I can tell."

"Well, it looks like a big snow globe. Maybe if you just give it a good shake?" Kate offered.

Connor snorted. "With our luck, that'll open a gateway to Hell."

"That's kinda the idea, isn't it, kid?" Kate replied facetiously.

"Don't call me 'kid!'" Connor groused; he was really starting to hate that nickname.

As they argued among themselves, Dawn mind drifted back to what Insect-thing had revealed to her. _No words. No word magic. No word magic, powerless. Much more power in..._

"Blood magic?" Dawn whispered quietly. With that, she reached over and touched Connor's still-bleeding lip, which immediately caught his attention. Wordlessly, Dawn took her blood-matted fingers and gently laid them onto the globe.

Suddenly, the blue sphere began to glow, lightning crackling around it before a lightning bolt shot out and opened a swirling purple and blue vortex.

Instinctively, Angel pushed Connor behind him - the scene far too much like when that gateway to Quor-toth opened through which Holtz had taken his infant son - as the others stepped away from the portal.

"Whoa!" Connor breathed as he saw the portal crackling angrily.

Kate nodded to Dawn in approval, as she reloaded her semiautomatic firearm. "Nice work, kid. Let's go," she said as she started towards the portal.

"No!" Dawn shouted, which stopped the ex-policewoman in her tracks. "We can't go in there. Only Angel can!"

"What? Dawn, what are you talking about?" a stunned Angel asked.

"Something that Bug Breath said, uh, how the atmosphere in that world is poisonous to human beings. It'll kill us if we breathe it. But that won't be a problem for _you_, since y'know, you don't need to breathe," Dawn said, her eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, Angel. But if you're going in there, you have to do it alone."

Mulling over his options, Angel concluded that Dawn was right. If her information was correct, the only other person who could come with him safely was Spike, and he wasn't here right now. Besides, the odds were that if his irritating GrandChilde _did_ accompany him on this journey, one or both of them would kill the other.

Angel wouldn't have been inclined to take his son, Buffy's kid sister and his former cop friend through that portal into a demon stronghold even if the atmosphere wasn't an issue, anyway. And if there was even the slightest chance that this high priest held the key to saving Cordy and preventing the end of the world, then the vampire knew that he had to take it.

With that, Angel turned to Kate. "Kate, I need a favor."

"Name it," she replied without hesitation.

"Catch up with the rest of your crew, and escort my people back to the Hyperion. If everything at the hotel goes south for whatever reason, they're going to need some backup. Don't stop for anything, just get there as fast as you can."

Kate nodded. "Done."

"Dawn," he turned to the Key. "If I don't make it back…tell Buffy and the others -"

"Angel, don't. Please," Dawn pleaded with him, her bottom lip quivering. "Promise me…just _promise_ me that you'll be back once you find what you're looking for!"

Angel wanted to tell her that he couldn't make such promises, that nothing was guaranteed during apocalypse season. But one look into those pleading blue eyes and those words died in his throat.

Pressing a tiny kiss to her forehead, he nodded. "Okay, squirt. I promise."

"Dad, I -" Connor started to say, about to tell Angel to be careful - despite the teen's still-conflicted feelings about him - when he was cut off with a crushing hug from his father, which caught the male teen completely off-guard.

Just as Connor was about to hug him back, Angel pulled away, looking him square in the eyes. "Connor? You take good care of your mother if I…you know. Look after her. And Dawn. Look out for all of them, as best you can."

Struggling to find the right words to say, Connor could only utter, "Yeah. I promise."

Nodding, Angel picked up his sword and the globe and started towards the portal. He took one last look back at the others, before he disappeared into the crackling wormhole…

* * *

…and then Angel reappeared in a barren, cloudy, mountainous demon dimension-where an entire _legion_ of creatures similar to Insect-thing slowly approached him, eyeing the Champion with snapping claws and angry red eyes.

At that moment, an astonished Angel muttered two words that summed up his perilous situation perfectly.

"Oh, hell."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

Next: Buffy and Darla finally come face-to-face with the Beastmaster and the mysterious Power. Can they revive the real Cordelia before the fallen PTB can finally bring about her dark plans? Or will they both die trying?

And when Skip quits yapping and actually starts threatening the lives of everyone back at the hotel, the only one who can save the day is - Xander? ? God help all the good guys in there...

* * *

Well, that's it for now, kids! And remember - Part 2. Friday. 7 p.m. Only on F F. N E T! Be there!

Later!

Jean-theGuardian


	23. Part 21 Wake Me Up Inside, Part 2

A/N : Good morning and evening to all of you out there in Fanfiction Land! Special shoutout to all you out there who left reviews, including angelplusbuffyequals4ever, David Fishwick, Keniaia, Hope, Lilly Emerald, Angellufy, teamtiva, Alexis Steele, ashes at midnight, philly cheese dude, and Megagalvatron12. You guys rock!

I don't think I've ever uploaded this many chapters in 1 month since I started writing this bad boy in 2003. Kinda proud of that. Well, guys, here's the latest chapter. The next update will probably come around early September or so (or then again, if inspired enough, I might have it up sooner, who knows?) Special thanks to the greatest beta writer south of the Equator, Starway Man, for the awesome edits. Please check out his work on his FF dot net page, you won't be disappointed!

I came up for some of the scenes thanks to the inspiration of two specific songs: Bring Me to Life, by Evanescence (of course) and "All the Things She Said," by T.a.T.u. back in 2003. Feels good to see them in print finally. I'd recommend listening to them sometime later to get the feel for what I was trying to do here.

And as always, feedback and reviews make for a happy Jean-theGuardian. So, sit back, get a soda and your favorite snack and enjoy the latest chapter of…

* * *

**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 21 - Wake Me Up Inside, Part 2**

* * *

_How can you see into my eyes  
Like open doors?..._

_Leading you down into my core_  
_Where I've become so numb_

_Without a soul  
My spirits sleeping somewhere cold  
Until you find it there and lead it back home..._

_(Wake me up!)_  
_Wake me up inside_  
_(I can't wake up!)_  
_Wake me up inside_  
_(Save me!)_  
_Call my name and save me from the dark_  
_(Wake me up!)_  
_Bid my blood to run_  
_(I can't wake up!)_  
_Before I come undone_  
_(Save me!)_  
_Save me from the nothing I've become_

- Bring Me To Life, Evanescence

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Main Lobby**

**Fifteen minutes earlier**

* * *

It had been a quiet half-hour or so since the Hypnos dream spell had been cast, leaving the assembled Scooby Gang and Fang Gang members anxious as they awaited the outcome of the ancient and primal magicks.

While Lorne had popped into the kitchen to help Andrew with the food he was preparing for the hungry crew, Gunn and Fred sat quietly in the corner, watching the comatose trio of Buffy, Cordelia and Darla slumber in the mystical hold of the spell, while Willow floated cross-legged in an almost fugue state, channeling the mystical forces connecting their minds together.

Xander, Giles, Oz, Kennedy, Whistler and Anya were standing close to Gunn and Fred as they also watched the effects of the spell, transfixed with the scene before them; while Wesley and Lindsey guardedly monitored the four entranced women.

After several minutes of reading the Bisylline Codex, Lindsey let out a terse sigh. "I can hear you glaring at me all the way from here," the ex-lawyer said off-handedly to Wesley, without looking up from his reading.

As his hard blue eyes appraised the man, Wesley replied in a similar nonchalant manner. "Just making sure someone is keeping an eye on you."

"Is that your way of saying you want to help?" Lindsey smirked, as he looked up into the cool expression of the ex-Watcher. "Fine, then. Three glazed, three jellies, and I like my coffee with two lumps of sugar. Think you can handle that, or are you gonna mess it up just like you did kidnapping Angel's brat?"

"It would be in your best interests not to piss me off, McDonald," Wesley retorted coldly. "Or else an order for pastries isn't the only thing that will be messed up around here."

Lindsey only chuckled. "You got a lot to learn about making threats, you know that?"

"Who said it was a threat?" Wesley coolly answered. "Now then, humor me - what's your game, McDonald?"

"Depends on the night of the week," Lindsey replied cheekily. "Strip poker, darts, solitaire…that last one you'd probably know quite a bit about, I'm guessing? You know, on account of how you don't have friends anymore?"

Ignoring the brief stab of pain those words caused him, Wesley kept his rugged features impassive. "Well, then - given that a power-hungry bootlicker like yourself is always in short supply of friends himself, perhaps you can tell me how to cope one day."

"Easy. I drink," Lindsey shrugged, unfazed, as he turned the pages of the Codex.

"Been there, got over that," Wesley said, before returning to his original question. "Now why are you here? Seriously. The local branch of Wolfram and Hart is currently out of business, and you have allegiances to no one here - least of all, Angel. Yet, here you are. Why?"

"For starters, Crumpet Boy, an apocalypse would have a direct impact on me, seeing as how this is my planet and all."

"That never stopped you from siding with Wolfram & Hart in the past, did it?"

Lindsey chuckled bitterly. "Oh, boy. Here we go again. You guys ever learn a new song, huh? I thought you people at Angel Investigations were all about redemption and saving souls."

"No, that's Angel's thing, I'm afraid. And even if it wasn't, don't think I've forgotten how we've had this conversation before - around the time you sold your soul to the Senior Partners, after that nasty business with those three blind children," Wesley coldly replied. "Myself, I'm currently in the business of fighting evil - whether it wears a thousand-dollar suit, or it possesses horns and fangs."

"First off, my suits cost $4,000 each. Custom made," Lindsey countered. "And second, we all make mistakes, Monarchy Boy. Try putting yourself in my shoes for a second. Growing up dirt-poor with a stay-at-home mom and a dad whose fifth-grade education only qualified him to be a traveling farm hand in whatever Podunk town he could find work in, bouncing around from place to place in the Dust Bowl with six brothers and sisters, which come flu season, got whittled down to four? Left to fend for yourself after a tractor accident kills your dad on your sixteenth birthday? Burying yourself in the books to make something of yourself, while getting picked on at school because everyone knows you can't even afford to have a toilet in your home?

"And then some guy in a suit shows up one day when you're in your sophomore year at college, and tells you that if you sign on with his big fancy law firm, you'll never have to worry about being poor again? That you can send money to the rest of the family, and keep 'em comfortable for the rest of their lives? What the hell would you have done?" Lindsey demanded angrily.

"I would have asked Holland Manners - that _is_ you recruited you, yes? - what the catch was," Wesley replied. "Because there's always a catch…as you discovered."

"Touché," Lindsey smirked, before looking back to the spell book in his hands. "But I did what I had to do at the time, to stay alive and keep my family alive. Would I do it all over again, if someone gave me the chance? I don't know. But when the people you love need your help, morals don't pay for food, shelter or medicine. Money does. And Wolfram & Hart had plenty of that to burn."

"And all it cost you was your soul," Wesley said simply.

"As I said, Pryce, I wouldn't expect you to understand," Lindsey said, thumbing through the ancient pages again. "Not with your background."

After a beat, Wesley asked, "Do you miss your family?"

The question clearly caught Lindsey off-guard, the handsome ex-lawyer looking up in surprise at Wesley, who sat back patiently waiting for a response.

After a moment of careful thought, Lindsey smiled. "Not in the sense you mean. Hey, I love my brother Earl to death - he always loved to kid around with me; even when I was pissed, even when I didn't want to talk to anybody. He owns a candy shop I manage for him during weekdays now, I see him all the time. And Lisa, my younger sister? Pretty little thing, blonde hair, blue eyes, great tan and a big heart…my brothers and I used to have to sit on the damn porch with a shotgun, to keep the boys from swarming all over her during high school."

Lindsey abruptly chuckled with mirth at the memories. "That's part of the reason why I became such a good shot."

Wesley frowned as he realized something. "You said you were one of four siblings. You mentioned two…what about the third one?"

Lindsey's smile immediately vanished, his eyes turning cold again as he looked away. "He's not our family's problem anymore. And thank God for that."

Wesley raised an eyebrow at that comment, but said nothing further. Besides, he wasn't sure just how much more he wanted to know about his apparently former enemy, and current romantic rival.

At that thought, Wesley's eyes softened as he turned to look at Darla, who looked angelic as she slept under the mystical spell. Like a Sleeping Beauty that was awaiting the right prince to awaken her with a kiss.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Lindsey's voice broke his reverie.

Wesley couldn't help but to narrow his eyes at the man, as he returned his gaze to Darla briefly. "Yes. She is," he mused softly.

"In the Odyssey, Helen of Troy's beauty was enough to launch a thousand ships - even though according to Wolfram & Hart's records, it was actually more like a hundred. But whatever - it figures that beauty would be enough to make a guy do the wacky. Like wage war. Kill his best friend," Lindsey said, pensively, before smirking. "Or, you know, drive to the other side of the damn country with a practically mute werewolf and a balance demon who knows more ways to sing '99 bottles of beer' than should legally be allowed."

"So, is that all you care about?" Wesley asked, his voice thick with a slightly accusing edge. "Another chance to make her love you?"

"I never claimed otherwise, did I?" Lindsey replied, his eyes still on Darla. "Darla's not the only reason why I'm here…but I'd be lying if I said she had nothin' to do with it. Never figured I'd have _you_ as competition, though." At that, he looked at Wesley poignantly.

"This isn't a race," Wesley said distastefully.

"No. But it is going to be a fight," Lindsey said, sizing up the Englishman. "That's what you can expect from me, if you're fancying the idea of making a play for my girl."

"From the way she so affectionately punched you in the face before the spell, I'd say Darla wouldn't appreciate being referred to 'your girl', as if she was your...possession," Wesley replied smoothly as he leveled his steely blue-eyed gaze at the former lawyer. "But if it's a fight you want, I'd be only too happy to oblige you. _After_ we save the world. Not before." He looked briefly to his old friends, Gunn, Fred and Lorne, a spark of longing briefly igniting in his eyes before he returned his gaze to Darla. "Hearts just get in the way."

"You keep thinking that, Wes old boy," Lindsey crowed confidently. "That's exactly the kinda talk I need to win Darla's heart. Just keep doin' what you're doin'. That's good stuff, man."

"They look so peaceful, don't they?" Fred said, musingly, as she watched from the other side of the room.

Anya snorted, more than a little bitterly. "Yeah. Hard to tell that they've already got one foot in the grave, and that's almost literally."

"Ahn!" Xander scolded her.

"Anya, please," Giles said in a sigh that was half a warning and half in simple exhaustion. It had been a long day and night, and while Giles's spirit was willing, his aging flesh was not what it used to be. He was counting the seconds until this dreadful spell was over, and two of the people that he loved like family - Buffy and Willow - were safe and sound again.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Giles, the tact thing," Anya waved him off, knowing that she was about to get chastised for her comment and honestly not wanting to hear it.

"We have to keep our spirits up," Giles said, addressing the others softly. "We're still a long way from being out of the woods."

"We'll get there. Just takes time," Oz said simply.

Fred turned to the werewolf and offered him a smile. "I don't suppose you learned how to speed any of that up during your travels, did you?"

"Not unless it's by driving a turbo-powered van, I didn't," Oz said with a half-smile.

Gunn gave Oz an intrigued look, his curiosity piqued. "I know a thing or two about custom rides myself, with my truck all geared up for vamp killing. Maybe when this is over, I can take it for a spin?"

"When this is over, I'm thinking extra-large pepperoni pizza and enough Cherry Coke to fill me up for three days," Oz smirked, which drew a small, brief but much-needed round of chuckles from the group - all save Kennedy, who was eyeing Oz with noticeable disdain.

Off his werewolf friend's words, Xander's stomach suddenly growled loudly, reminding him that it had been hours since he had last eaten.

"Speaking of which, where's Andrew with the grub already?" Harris asked.

"Right here!" the nerd's squeaky voice rang out as he came out of the kitchen with a tray of assorted finger sandwiches for the crew, Lorne following with several cups of coffee.

"Sorry we don't have anything less jitters-causing for the old nerves, people, but I figured that a little caffeine at this hour would be a lot more helpful than, say, a cup of tea," Lorne said apologetically as he passed the tray of coffee around for the heroes.

"I'll say," Gunn grumbled. "Me? I'm running on a sandwich I had yesterday, and about three cans of Red Bull."

Fred glanced sympathetically at her former boyfriend. It had been a very trying time for the Angel Investigations team over the last few months, and even though things were supposed to get easier with time, it seemed to her that with each passing day, the horrors were only getting worse.

From Holtz's appearance last year to Connor's disappearance and return, Angel and Cordy disappearing for the entire summer, the Beast and the Rain of Fire, the Permanent Midnight, the return of Angelus, the truth about Cordelia's possession…it was like a Ferris wheel of fire and death that was gaining speed with every turn, and there was no stopping it.

"I guess breaks aren't plentiful when fighting the forces of darkness," Fred murmured.

"Sadly, no," Giles sighed. "But we have to have faith that the worst of it is almost over."

"So…Giles, isn't it?" Gunn said, turning his attention to the older man. "Wes said that your Buffy's Watcher, right? The guy who trained her right from the get-go?"

"You could say that," Giles nodded with a slight smile, as a tidal wave of memories suddenly tumbled through his head.

Meeting a bright-eyed, still-inexperienced Buffy on her first day at Sunnydale High School during her sophomore year. The late night training sessions, patrolling cemeteries, endless hours of hearing how much she wanted a normal life, an ill-tempered Giles learning the value of patience that came with training a sarcastic Valley Girl unwilling to accept her destiny…a girl that he would eventually come to love as his own daughter as she slowly blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and possibly the greatest Slayer in history.

"So, level with me - can your girl really make this right? Can she really save Cordy?" asked a still-skeptical Gunn.

Giles gazed fondly to the still-slumbering Slayer. "Rest assured, young man. She won't stop until she does."

* * *

**Inside Cordelia's Mind**

**Now**

* * *

Buffy's sword - a mental construct she had learned to materialize - viciously slashed across the throat of a shambling zombie, one of several swarms of zombies that had appeared in the last few minutes to attack both her and Darla.

"I." Slash. "Hate." Slash. "Undead." Slash. "Stupid." Slash. "Stinking." Slash. "Nasty." Slash. "_Zombies_!" the Slayer yelled furiously.

As Darla beheaded an approaching zombie to her right, she could only grunt, "I'm going to have to agree with you on that."

Time passes differently, depending where you are. While only an hour had passed since the spell had been cast within the Hyperion, in the astral plane, it had been more like seventy-two hours. For the last three days, the blonde Slayer and the ex-vampiress had been traveling this mindscape, searching high and low for the soul of Cordelia Chase. At least, it had felt like three days to them; and since reality was subjective, and for these two blondes all that they had experienced since that first brutal encounter with the Master was the real deal, it shall so be described.

Thus, it had been a trying seventy-two hours, with both women having to struggle with their own inner demons while fending off the numerous attacks created by the Beastmaster. So, to say that it had been a trying time for the two heroines was a gross understatement. But in the process, they had developed an understanding of each other, and of themselves in the process.

(**A/N: I'll have details on that in a separate companion piece I plan to write later, regarding their three days traveling together**.)

Buffy just hoped that would be enough to help them defeat the Beastmaster and save Cordelia, in the end.

Five minutes later, after dispatching the last of the zombies, Buffy tiredly slouched against a nearby boulder, taking a moment to catch her breath. As said, it had been nearly an endless effort during the last several days to beat back the enemy tide, and frankly, her patience was starting to wear thin.

Huffing, she took a look at Darla, who wiped a bead of sweat off her brow. "Please, for the love of God, tell me that this is the place already."

Taking a moment, Darla let her senses extend, guided by the mystical force left over from her re-corporealization by the Beastmaster.

"Just over that cliff, I think," Darla said, as she opened her eyes, motioning towards a cliff slightly over the horizon.

Groaning, Buffy shuffled to her feet. "Great. Just what I need, more walking. 'Cause Lord knows I haven't done enough of that in the last few days."

"Just a little further, I promise you," Darla said patiently, as the two blondes made their way up and over the cliff…

…where they found a large and barren patch of desolate land.

Irritated, Buffy groused, "What? This is it? Three days of searching and fighting, and we come to this backdrop of nothing? Wow, talk about winning the booby prize! Only we're the ones who look like boobs." She frowned. "Um…that didn't come out right."

Darla chuckled at the Slayer's frustration. "You really can't see it, can you?"

"See what?" Buffy snapped, getting tired of all the mystery.

"I'm disappointed in you, Buffy," Darla said as she regarded the empty space with interest. "You of all people should know by now that there's always more to things than meet the eye."

Suddenly, Darla's eyes began to glow white. With a wave of her hand, the air around the space began to ripple, like water in a lake after a stone had skipped over it. It was then that the façade and the magical barrier around the vacant space began to give way…finally revealing a slumbering Cordelia Chase, encased in amber.

Buffy's eyes widened. _Finally!_

"Cordelia," she breathed, surprised.

Darla exhaled a sigh of satisfaction. At last, the nightmare was nearly over.

Puzzled by the strange amber encasing and trapping the brunette seer inside, Buffy looked to Darla for answers. "What the hell is that thing she's trapped in? And why is she taking a nap?"

"In reverse order, probably a spell of some sort - and that's most likely some sort of...mystical cage, that the Power and the Beastmaster are using to ensure that the real Cordelia can't pose a problem for them," Darla mused. "It's most likely something conjured by a spell, or a -"

"Blah, blah, blah, getting bored already," Buffy huffed as she marched towards the amber cocoon holding Cordy prisoner, her trusty right hand balled into a powerful fist. "All I know is, it looks breakable to me."

"No, _wait_!" Darla shouted in warning, but it was too late as Buffy's fist connected with a solid blow to the amber casing…

…only for the Slayer to be sent flying backwards and sliding across the floor, thanks to a powerful bolt of energy that blasted out from the cocoon.

Dazed, Buffy groaned as she shook off the cobwebs thanks to that unexpected backlash. "What…the hell…was that?"

Shaking her head, Darla helped the Slayer to her feet. "I tried to warn you. There's some seriously powerful warding magic surrounding that thing, holding your friend prisoner. Physical force is useless in trying to free Cordelia, unfortunately."

"_Now_ you tell me," Buffy groused.

A shrill laughter suddenly surrounded them. A hauntingly familiar sound that had been plaguing them over the last three days in this horrible place.

"Typical Slayer. Always thinking they can solve their problems with their fists instead of their tiny little brains," the voice of the Beastmaster taunted them. "No wonder you Lycra-covered, stick-wielding bimbos die so young. Of course, _you'd_ know that better than anyone - wouldn't you, Miss Soulless-Vampire-Humps-A-Lot?"

Buffy's pretty face twisted into a grimace, her stance becoming immediately combative as she and Darla readily held up their weapons. "I can think of at least _one_ problem my fists - and my feet - can solve. So why don't you come on out, and let me show you _how_?"

"You still don't get it, do you, Bleach Blonde Barbie?" the voice taunted as the air in front of them began to ripple, revealing the Beastmaster; once again in the form of Cordelia Chase. "You've already lost, the second you and Pretty Woman over there waltzed into my realm."

Darla stiffened at the crack, no doubt a reference to her less virtuous days as a prostitute, but said nothing.

"You may as well cut the bullshit, Queen Beeyotch. That 'I am God here' crap you were spouting three days ago is just that - crap," Buffy spat, having had enough of this thing's mind games. "You know what we're here for, and that we can hurt you now that we know the rules of this little game. So let Cordelia out of her cage. _Now_, if you still want your head attached to your body!"

"Is that any way to talk to your host these last few days?" 'Cordelia' smirked. "Gotta give you gals credit for making it this far; I bet twenty bucks that you wouldn't have lasted a day in here. But what's with the cranky faces? I mean, here I thought you two were having fun, playing our little contest of wills..."

"The game's over," Darla said threateningly, glaring at the enemy as she readied her sword.

"What she said," Buffy added, her eyes narrowed in a warrior's death gaze, her blade ready to cut this bitch in half.

"Oh, no, no, ladies," the Beastmaster smiled evilly, her hands crackling with red energy as she readied for a final showdown. "Because the fun hasn't even star -"

"_**Enough**_**!**" another female voice boomed from the skies above them, drawing the attention of all three soon-to-be combatants.

"_**This has gone on for long enough**_," the voice continued.

Buffy noted how the Beastmaster suddenly looked worried, as she - it - whatever, talked to the disembodied voice. "Uh…M-mistress, I don't think this is a good -"

"_**I did not ask for your counsel on this. Nor will I**_," the voice coldly replied, as the air once again began to ripple, but this time alongside the Beastmaster. "_**It is time - long past time - to clear up this little…misunderstanding.**_"

Buffy took in a deep breath. This was it. This was the Big Bad that had been making Angel's life a living hell, and allegedly, responsible for all the horrors in her own life as well, from the moment she'd been Called. And it was about to make its presence felt.

"Ready to rock?" the determined Slayer murmured to her traveling partner.

A steely look overtook the ex-vampiress's eyes. "And roll."

The air roiled as a humanoid form began to take shape …one that morphed into a tall, beautiful, African-American woman.

To say that Buffy was taken aback was a gross understatement. She'd been expecting horns, fangs, tentacles, anything of the usual ugly monster variety…instead, she found herself in the presence of a woman whose beauty put her own to shame, someone whose presence was…awe-inspiring.

Darla, looking surprised herself, was also staring at the woman in shock. This…was not what she'd been expecting.

"Buffy. Darla," the black woman greeted them warmly, a serene smile on her face. "I bid you welcome."

Something was pulling at the iron will of the Slayer, something powerful. Buffy could feel the anger, the fight in her spirit begin to wither, slowly leaving her body with each passing second.

Despite her own anger, something was also beginning to cloud Darla's senses. Slowly, steadily overriding her will. She could feel it.

"Who…what are you?" Buffy asked, in a sort of daze.

"I believe your research indicated a second being present within my soon-to-be mother's body," the woman shrugged, still smiling a dazzling grin. "I am she. And as for what I am, let's just say I'm no stranger to this world. Well, the mortal plane beyond Cordelia's mind."

"You've been here before?" Darla asked softly, feeling as if something heavy was being drained out of her.

The black woman smiled knowingly at the Beastmaster - who merely rolled her eyes in annoyance - before she elaborated, "Yes. In the beginning, before the time of man, great beings walked the earth. Untold power emanated from all quarters - the seeds of what would come to be known as good and evil.

"But the shadows stretched and became darkness, and the malevolent among us grew stronger. The Earth became a demon realm. Those of us who had the will to resist left this place…but we remained ever-watchful," she finished with a flourish.

"You _are_ a Power That Be," Buffy breathed in astonishment, before frowning. "Um…Power that…is? Was? Is that the right verb? I wouldn't want to offend -"

The woman laughed; and it was a melodious enchanting sound, so unlike the Beastmaster's cold cackling. "You could not offend me, Buffy, even if you tried. I've been watching you for a long time, my dear. Your struggles, your pain, and suffering. You've lost so much, even your own life - and yet you still fight on for those who need your strength and courage most of all. I am honored by your presence."

"Yeah, it's a real treat," the Beastmaster muttered in disgust, which earned her a withering glare from the Power.

"So, what were you saying before? After you and the rest of the Powers left Earth...?" Darla asked, slowly, trying to fight the fog creeping over her mind.

"We watched, and acted through our messengers when we could. We had all but given up hope that this realm could ever be made whole again," the black woman continued. "That the darkness which had consumed it would rule over it for all eternity. But then…something new emerged from deep inside the earth - neither demon, nor god."

"Man," Buffy realized, to which the woman nodded.

"And it seemed, for a time, that through this new race, a balance might be restored," the fallen Power said. "Alas, but that became more…complicated than we anticipated. Humans are wonderfully complex creatures, capable of great emotion, great…will," the woman finished that sentence with a slight frown. "But sometimes, that will has led you all down the wrong path. A path riddled with violence, famine, hunger, disease, death and suffering…it was we who failed you. We became little more than observers. Eventually, I could no longer bear to just watch all the suffering. I had to find a way back. But first, I needed a miracle -"

Suddenly, the dazed look of awe on the faces of both women abruptly vanished, a hardened glare resurfacing on the face of the Slayer and a righteous look of anger on the beautiful face of Darla.

"Yeah, yeah, we're clear on that part of it, Oh Wise One," Buffy snapped, in her trademark flippant tone. "Now, you be a good little so-called goddess, and tell us how to stop it. How to get Cordelia free of that cage she's in, before we kick your so-called divine ass!"

This clearly surprised the woman and the Beastmaster, who drew back in shock. "How?" the Power asked, astonished. "How did you -?"

"How did we break your almighty mystical thrall crap?" Buffy smiled wickedly. "We had a little help."

"Ever heard of the Orb of Makai?" Darla elaborated, smirking.

As the Beastmaster started cussing angrily, the female Power's face fell as she silently cursed the other Powers for granting Makai godhood eons ago - a move that she had opposed, by the way. "That damned Quilloc demon. I always knew he was going to be trouble."

"I told you we should have just killed them and been done with it," the Beastmaster groused.

"Be silent," the Power commanded her, and 'Cordelia' instantly shut up.

"Yeah, hate to break up this fun dissension among the evil ranks and all, but I'm kinda on a schedule here," Buffy snapped, her grip around her sword tightening. "Now, are you going to get my friend out of that cocoon right this second, or am I going to have to go postal on both of you?"

"Personally, I'm hoping for the second option," a scowling Darla said as she glared daggers at the Beastmaster. "I've got a score to settle with that one."

The grinning 'Cordelia' drew a large knife from behind her. "Looking forward to it, bitch."

"Wait…please," the Power pleaded, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. "There isn't any need for violence. We're all fighting for the same thing. We're on the same side -"

Buffy instantly shook her head. "Lady, I don't know what team you and Faux-delia over there are playing for, but it sure as hell isn't mine! My team wouldn't kill people or try to destroy the world." She paused, reconsidering that statement. "Well, not unless they're soulless. Or possessed by an evil goddess. Or werewolves. Or hopped up on dark magicks. Or they're some mystical ball of energy that can open dimensional gateways with the right ritual..."

"Whatever, they get the idea," Darla sighed, sending Buffy an annoyed look.

"Buffy, think about it," the renegade Power threw pleading dark eyes at the blonde Slayer. "For nearly eight years, your entire life has been dominated by the war against Evil. As have the lives of your friends. It's taken its toll on all your souls, and you can't tell me otherwise. It's taken time away from enjoying the wonders and treasures that life has to offer, forced you to grow up too fast and suffer through so much. And Angel, think of him! Think of how much he's suffered trying to atone for the sins of his past - sins that the presence of Angelus forced him to consider as his own. Think of how his friends have also suffered tragedies too heavy for anyone to handle.

"I'm offering you a way out from all that, Buffy," the Power continued, her pleas becoming more passionate. "My birth will finally usher in a new age for mankind. Just by my presence alone, it'll become a world without violence. Without hate. Or evil. Or fear. A better world…one where people can be safe and free, they can laugh, live and love as it was always intended. A world where your sister Dawn can grow up without worrying that some mage or demon is going to kill her for its own ends, and she'll be able to receive everything this life has to offer her. A world where your friends can be safe…a world where you can do what you want to do, be what you want to be." She met Buffy's eyes poignantly. "Love who you want to love, without consequence. Isn't all that worth the life of one person?"

God help her, but at that moment, Buffy Anne Summers was tempted. Oh, was she _ever _tempted. She was Adam (the Biblical one, not that freak cyber-demonoid or whatever) and Eve was holding out a delicious-looking ripe apple to her.

The Slayer could feel the power that this creature was emanating, knew that she could most likely make good on all her promises. And truth be told, Buffy _was_ tired of fighting. She had been for a very long time, even before her death and resurrection by Willow.

This life…this hard, cruel life, was too hard sometimes. It had taken her mother, and friends like Merrick, and Jenny and Theresa and Tara and Kendra. It had destroyed her chance to love…Riley and Pike and Scott Hope…even Spike and…Angel. It had separated her from the man she had loved during her teenage years, even if the undead Champion had been the one to abandon _her_.

And Dawn, she had already been through so much, too much for someone so young.

Because of the mission. _Her_ mission. Her war. The never-ending battle.

And now, this goddess, this Power, was offering her a way out from all that. If Buffy did this, if she gave in and allowed the Power and its plans to come to fruition…this world she spoke of, this perfect world…wouldn't need a Slayer anymore. She could finally be free of the burden and the responsibility of her calling in a world without evil, or evil demons.

Her friends - Willow, Xander, Giles, Anya, Spike and Oz, heck, even Faith - could find happiness and safety. As could Wesley, Gunn, Fred, Lorne and Connor…and Dawn, sweet little Dawn, she could be free to see the whole world, and experience everything.

And Angel…if this Power could remove the perfect happiness clause from his curse - and Buffy suspected that she truly could - then she and Angel could finally be together, without the fear of unleashing the evil _thing _within him. A perfect world meant that Angel wouldn't have to worry about fighting evil to atone for his bloody past anymore, because all evil would have been wiped out.

No more fighting, no more killing, no more suffering and pain and sacred duties or destinies…just her and Angel. And his deep, sad eyes. That chiseled body. His perfect face. All of his caring and understanding. The only one who truly understood what she went through to keep the innocents safe every night, because he went through the same thing. All of it and even more untold possibilities could be hers…

…and all it would cost her was the life of a brunette woman that, quite frankly, she'd never been particularly close to.

A woman who, apparently, had been moving in to claim the heart of her former lover before her ascension to the higher realms.

A woman who'd frequently insulted her and helped ruin her reputation back in high school, who had been so mean to Buffy's friends before she became a Scooby herself- only to show her true colors again, after the break-up with Xander - and put down everyone around her as they were growing up in Hellmouth High.

Some might argue that, either by dying or living the rest of her life as a vegetable, Cordelia's existence would be serving some purpose, some higher meaning in bringing about a better world…even if it was one without her in it.

Darla looked warily at the Slayer, noting how she was mulling over this creature's proposal. "Buffy. You can't seriously be considering this, can you? After everything this thing has done, all the people it's killed? What it tried to do to Connor and your sister? What it will do to your friend if it's born?"

Buffy eyed the sword in her hand for a moment, before turning back to Darla. "You have to admit, a lot of what she says makes sense."

A wide-eyed Darla began to protest, "Buffy -"

"Just hear me out, Darla," Buffy cut her off softly. "Evil doesn't stop coming, we both know that. It never does, and never will. I'll say this for the forces of darkness - those guys are a lot of things, but being lazy or quitters aren't among them."

A sigh. "God knows I've lost track how many times I've wished for all of this to just…stop. To have it so that my skipping patrol for one night in order to go to a concert, hang out with my friends, dance at a club, go on a date, even work a real job…wouldn't mean that some vamp or demon from the 8th level of hell that I could have stopped, wound up killing some old lady or a father or an eight-year-old kid or the guy who rings me up every morning at Starbucks. I wake up the next morning and, poof - no more evil. No more slaying. No more senseless, stupid death. I could be…free. This Power, this…"

Buffy looked at the Power again, musingly. "I'm sorry, what do I call you?"

The woman mused for a moment. "I have no name of my own, but if I had to choose, it would be the name of the flower whose scent Cordelia spent many nights enjoying in the front garden of the hotel…jasmine, I believe you call it."

"Jasmine," Buffy said the name slowly, as if trying it out. "Okay, if…Jasmine, here, can really do all of this…then that really would be a better world. Not just for me, but for everyone. Angel, my sister, Spike, my friends…everyone. It might even be the best thing for me to do."

The Beastmaster and 'Jasmine' exchanged pleased glances with each other, thinking that the Slayer had come around to their line of thinking.

Suddenly, Buffy's pensive eyes hardened again. "But unfortunately, here's the downside. Doing that would mean that Cordy dies."

The Chosen One motioned towards the sleeping woman in the amber, rock-like casing. "I'll be honest with you, Darla. The Cordelia Chase I knew was a snob, a bitch and pretty much the nastiest girl in Sunnydale. She was the only person I ever met who could turn her nose up at you, while her eyes looked down on you at the same time. She was rude, vain and she liked clothes and shoes a lot more than she liked people, more often than not. Sometimes…I just really wanted to knock her teeth down her throat.

"And yet, here's the thing - when the chips were down and when it counted most, she was there for me. Cordy might have complained about it at the top of her voice - before, during and after - but she was still there to help. Not because it suited her, not because she had no other choice…well, I hope not, anyway…but because it was the right thing to do. Because that's what a real friend does. And there's no way I could ever turn my back on someone like that, not when she's watched my back with everything she had."

The Chosen One turned those determined blue-green eyes of hers to Jasmine. "And if your so-called perfect world means a dead Cordelia Chase when I could have saved her, then by definition, it's _not_ a perfect world. It's a world that I want no part of, not even in the slightest. So, I'll say it again one more time and then, I'm going to get really pissy." Buffy held up her deadly sword, for emphasis. "Let. Her. Go."

Jasmine looked at her sadly. "I can't change your mind?"

"Not a chance in hell, Jasmine," Buffy said, steadfastly.

Smiling in relief, Darla then scowled at the two 'women' before them. "What _she_ said."

For a moment, Jasmine closed her dark brown eyes, looking regretful…before she opened them again, a green, sinister gleam overtaking them. "That's a pity."

In moments, another horde of zombie creatures sprouted out of the ground all around the two heroines. Within moments, the undead monstrosities had surrounded them.

"Zombies. Of course, it had to be zombies again," Buffy lamented before scowling at her two enemies. "_Pick a new damn theme, already_!"

"Well, funny thing. But 'Night of the Living Dead' was Cordelia's favorite horror flick - something your dork pal Xander got her hooked on, back when they were dating," 'Cordelia' smirked. "I knew right from the start how that guy would be useful for something, other than fetching the snacks."

_Xander, when I get out of here, your ass is SO getting kicked for this!_ an irritated Buffy thought to herself as she prepared to face yet another round of zombies.

Jasmine shook her head, disappointed. "I tried to do this the easy way, Buffy. I tried to offer you my hand in friendship…and you slapped it away, instead. It's a shame, truly - you would have been a worthy ally. But, if I have to use your blood as the mortar on which to build the perfect world - I will."

"We won't let you win," Darla promised fiercely, as she and Buffy started fighting the zombies.

'Cordelia' laughed malevolently, as she looked on at the peril both the Slayer and Darla faced. "Still holding out hope against the inevitable, eh? Don't you get it yet? You can't win this fight, blondie! Not here. Not while we still hold all the cards."

Buffy wasn't fazed. She knew that the others were still out there in the real world, ready to work a Plan B if necessary. As she slashed and hacked and stabbed at the zombies, she called out, "All the cards, huh? Guess you forgot that my friends still have you chained up at the hotel. And your powers are useless out there, as long as those chains are still intact."

"And that would be a problem…if those chains were strong enough to hold a Power That Was," Jasmine smirked, her eyes flashing an even brighter jade hue. "But with a little amplification of my power from the inside out…let's see what we can't do to make your friends a little more uncomfortable, shall we?"

* * *

**Within the Hyperion Hotel**

**The same time**

* * *

Walking through the upstairs corridors of the hotel, Robin Wood had recently finished a bed check on all the Potential Slayers. Luckily, all the girls were present and accounted for, as well as either asleep or getting there during the small hours of the night.

That had given him time to wander into one of the rooms filled with books that he was hoping could fill him in on some information on Angel...or rather, Angelus, if it turned out that Kennedy's tale from earlier was correct.

Even Vi, Amanda, Molly and Anna were growing drowsy as they waited for news about Connor and Dawn, up in their room.

Down in the lobby, it was quiet; the white hats were either munching on their food, or talking quietly amongst themselves. But then, without warning, something visibly _slithered_ within Cordelia's nine-month-pregnant belly - and the floors of the Hyperion Hotel began to shake violently, as the lights began to flicker.

"Wha - earthquake?" Xander stammered, looking around in surprise.

"What was your first guess?" Whistler shouted over the increasing noise.

Suddenly, large pieces of plaster began to fall from the ceiling. One particularly large and heavy piece was about to land on Anya's head when Oz, in a blur of speed, knocked her aside and out of harm's way.

"Everyone, look out!" Wesley shouted as the heroes all tried to regain their footing, but were sent sprawling after a powerful aftershock rattled the hotel.

"_Fred_!" Gunn shouted as he rushed to cover the petite Texan's body with his own, while the roof of the lobby kept falling down around them.

"What's happening?" a confused Fred cried out, the quake had stopped but it was as if the building was still convulsing in agony.

The aftershock sent more pieces of plaster falling from the ceiling, one large piece falling and shattering on top of the mystical red sand circle holding Skip prisoner…

…which broke the binding spell which had been holding the silver demon captive, for nearly twenty-four hours now.

Smirking, the mercenary demon eyed the female physics whiz like a cat about to devour a field mouse. "All this? It's the end of the world, cupcake."

With that, Skip calmly took five easy steps out of his cell until he stopped just short of a frightened Fred and a bewildered Gunn.

"Well, it is for all of you, anyway."

Gunn's instincts immediately kicked in as he grabbed a heavy piece of plaster and promptly slammed it against Skip's head. Despite its weight, the heavy blow did little to faze the evil demon - he just dismissively backhanded Gunn, sending him flying over the reception desk.

Bolting for the weapons cabinet, Whistler and Lorne immediately armed themselves with swords and tried their luck in attacking Skip. But their blows harmlessly bounced off Skip's armor-plated hide, not even leaving a scratch.

With minimal effort, Skip's powerful fist connected with Whistler's jaw, sending the balance demon flying across the room, crashing against the weapons cabinet and spilling its contents across the floor. Another solid backhand flung Lorne to the other side, his head connecting with a stone pillar of the hotel before he slumped to the floor unconscious.

Oz tried charging Skip with a sword, only to be grabbed and flung over the reception desk alongside Gunn.

Skip smirked. "Oh, man, that's just pitiful."

Grabbing a mace that had spilled onto the floor, Lindsey twirled twice to gain valuable momentum before slamming the spiked ball against the mercenary demon's head. And even though he staggered back, Skip did not suffer any real damage - so, grabbing the mace upon Lindsey's second attempt to strike him down, the merc unleashed a deadly uppercut that caught Lindsey full in the jaw and send him flying several feet across the lobby.

Grabbing a nearby small battle-axe, Xander let out a loud yell as he charged the demon, lashing out with three stiff blows from the deadly weapon. Annoyed, Skip jabbed an elbow in the young man's face, and was subsequently rewarded with a loud '_Crack_!' thanks to Xander's nose breaking.

Skip subsequently grabbed Harris by the scruff of his neck and tossed him through the air like a sack of garbage. "I really don't like you," the demon then semi-growled, recalling every verbal jab Xander had given him recently as the human crashed head-first into a wall.

"Keep him away from Willow and the others! Nothing else matters!" Giles shouted as he and Kennedy went up next.

The Watcher sent several hard, lethal blows at the armored Skip with a scythe-like weapon, while Kennedy swung a large axe against him. The demon merely laughed at their efforts, grabbing Giles and flinging him hard against the smaller Kennedy, sending them sprawling onto the ground.

Anya and Fred each charged the demon with two sharp katana blades, hacking away at Skip with several hard, but ultimately futile blows. Annoyed, Skip hauled back and belted both women with a solid backhand, knocking Anya out while sending a now-dazed and bloody-nosed Fred crashing to the floor.

"You really are all a bunch of stupid primates, aren't ya?" Skip crowed at the fallen heroes, including both Lorne and Whistler in his insulting description. "Haven't evolved past poking at it with sharp, pointy things in order to solve your problems. C'mon, you bunch of pantywaists, give me something new!"

A feral growl was the only response Skip heard, as he turned to find a new challenger…Oz, or rather the snarling, large and very angry werewolf he'd become.

Clearly surprised and even a little shocked, Skip grimaced. "Huh. Okay, that's something new."

* * *

**Inside Cordelia's Mind**

**Now**

* * *

"I still think you should just get it over with and simply kill them, Mistress," 'Cordelia' said, as she and Jasmine continued to watch Buffy and Darla fight for their lives.

"And I told _you_ to be silent. Beware my ever-increasing lack of patience with your outbursts," the rogue Power declared, narrowing her eyes at her so-called minion.

Darla abruptly remembered what Whistler and Lindsey had said about 'Jasmine' being tricked and completely fooled by the Beastmaster, the fallen angel who was really working for the First Evil - so even as she dodged and weaved and slashed at the zombies, Connor's mother opened her mouth to sow a little more dissension within the ranks of Team Evil…

…when several zombies managed to overtake her in her moment of distraction, tackling the ex-vampire down to the ground.

"Darla!" Buffy shouted, as she caught sight of her ally falling to the mercy of the undead creatures. That slight distraction of her own cost the Chosen One, though, as one of the zombies reached up behind her and trapped her throat in a stranglehold, allowing several others to overtake the Slayer.

As she thrashed in the grip of the monsters, Buffy started to panic. They were outnumbered, and without a game-changing moment soon, both she and Darla were both as good as dead. And she knew exactly where to get that moment…if Darla was willing to conquer her greatest fear.

"Darla…you have to change!" Buffy shouted as she wrestled with the monsters.

Despite being on the ground and fighting for her life, a cold fear shot up Darla's spine at the implications of Buffy's words. She knew what the Slayer was asking of her; they had discussed the subject over the last three days of their journey. But it was something that Darla had been struggling to avoid at all costs - for it was too high a price to pay. And she had no idea what would happen, if she gave in to the…well, 'darker' side of her nature.

"No…I can't. I won't!" Darla rasped out as she struggled with her undead captors.

"Darla, you have to!" Buffy pleaded as the zombies brought her to her knees, one of them viciously clawing at her face, drawing blood. "Damn it! I can't hold out much longer!"

"You don't have much longer left to _live_, Little Miss Glory Hound," the Beastmaster said tauntingly, as she and Jasmine took several steps closer to the subdued blondes.

Jasmine eyed Buffy with a regal stare, yet which was also one of complete and utter disdain. "This is your last chance, Buffy. Either join me…or die at my feet. Decide now."

Defiant to the end even as the zombies were trying to choke the life out of her, Buffy snorted, then spat upwards into Jasmine's face.

Delighted, the Beastmaster laughed, "Ooh, boy! Now you've done it, Barbie Doll..."

As she slowly wiped the globs of saliva from her face, Jasmine malevolently eyed the embattled Slayer.

"Your hate has sealed your doom," a seething Jasmine promised the Slayer, before turning towards a still-pinned Darla. "But not before your new friend pays the price for your insolence."

To the zombies holding Darla, the fallen Power waved dismissively. "Rip her to pieces."

"_No_!" Buffy shouted, in fear for Darla's life. But the zombies had already swarmed all over the older blonde, clawing and pummeling her as they sought to carry out Jasmine's orders.

Darla felt her head rock violently as one zombie punched her in the side of her head. She felt her strength beginning to drain away completely, as the other undead creatures pulled and yanked and tried to dismember her.

Only one thought floated through Darla's brain, as she finally bowed her head in defeat. _Forgive me, Connor…_

Tears pricked at her eyes as Buffy squirmed and struggled helplessly in the grip of the zombies holding her, realizing that there was nothing she could do to save Darla now. Buffy had failed her. And now, Darla was going to be…

Trembling, the Summers woman turned her furious, tear-brimmed stare at the cold stare of Jasmine and the cruel smirk of the Beastmaster.

"Well, whattaya know? Yet another life you failed to save," 'Cordelia' taunted the crestfallen heroine. "Gotta say, Buffy, when it comes to your rep as the mighty Vampire Slayer, the word 'overrated' comes to -"

Suddenly, the entire horde of zombies attempting to rip Darla apart went flying backwards, surprising everyone. Shocked, Jasmine and 'Cordelia' took note of the still-kneeling form of Darla, her back still turned to them.

And then, a breathy, cold, cruel laugh followed…

"Darla?" Buffy half-whispered in shock, even as she continued to fight against her own zombies.

"You shouldn't have done _thaaat_…" Darla's soft voice sing-songed.

As another zombie moved in to strike her, Darla - in a lightning-quick movement - grabbed the creature's arm and began to crush it. Literally, crush it.

And then, as she whirled to face the creature, Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat as she briefly caught sight of Darla…in full vampire face.

"…'_cause __**now**__ I'm pissed off_," Darla hissed through her demonic visage.

Then, she promptly and effortlessly plunged her fist right through the zombie's face, bursting it like a rotted melon.

Grabbing her discarded sword, the vampiress began to effortlessly cleave through the hordes of undead surrounding her. With hitherto unseen power, speed and brutality - and a heartless, sadistic smile on her ridged and fanged face - Darla began hacking, slashing and mauling the creatures, who were completely overwhelmed by the deadly fury of the demon dubbed by the Watcher Diaries and occult history books as "the Immortal Belladonna." Limbs and heads began flying everywhere.

Whirling around amid the carnage she had created, Darla - now wielding two swords, one which she had created as another mental construct - threw them both with deadly accuracy towards two of the zombie creatures holding Buffy's arms, the lethal blades lopping their heads off and freeing up the Slayer for combat.

Off Buffy's confused stare, Darla gruffly growled, "What is this, a staring contest? _Fight_!"

That wintry command was all that Buffy needed to snap back to her senses, as she shook her right leg free and crushed the head of one of the monsters holding her left leg, before getting back to work as she picked up her sword and fought back against the rest.

"No…" Jasmine growled in disbelief as she saw the two heroines somehow managed to turn the tide of battle, mowing down the enemy minions by the dozens.

"Damn it!" the Beastmaster shouted angrily. "We gotta kill them! _Now_!"

"So be it!" Jasmine commanded, her voice slightly wavering in fear. "Kill them both!" she then shouted.

Looking up from the carnage Buffy, a feral smile on her face, glared up at the two villainesses. "Sounds like a plan to me. How about you, Darla, what do you think?"

As she crushed the heads of two more zombies together, turning them into bloody stumps on decayed bodies, Darla gave a blood-chilling smile of her own as she growled, "_Kill 'em all. Let God sort 'em out_."

With that, the Chosen One and the legendary vampiress resumed slicing, kicking and slashing down the mob of zombies with zealous abandon.

As she continued to dispatch the enemy, Buffy took a moment to look over her shoulder to see how Darla was doing…and she almost wished she hadn't, after watching her companion in action. Because as one of the walking dead managed to land a hard blow across Darla's left cheek, the vampiress - not even fazed by the blow - gave the creature an evil smile, just before she reached out, grabbed the zombie's head and twisted hard, tearing the creature's head right off and sending a spray of blood jetting upwards.

As part of the blood ended up splattering onto her face, Darla stuck her tongue out and licked the sticky fluid off her lips, closing her eyes in satisfaction at the taste, before she continued cutting down the last remaining enemy minions.

Despite fighting for her life, the sight brought back chilling memories to Buffy of the wicked demoness that had once attacked her with a Colt .45 pistol, years ago, shooting with glee at anything that moved within the Bronze. _Not good..._

And suddenly, Buffy had become very wary of the situation. She had thought that having Darla tap into that darkness in this place - where the mind had total control - would give them the extra edge that they needed to win this battle. Instead, it now appeared that she might have not two, but three threats to deal with…

…and that distraction cost Ms. Summers dearly, yet again.

Her head was out of the game long enough for her last zombie to tackle her to the ground. Surprised, Buffy fought with all her might to keep the creature's snapping jaws away from her face...

Yet without warning, a female hand grabbed a handful of the creature's hair before pulling back in one motion, tearing the zombie's head clean away from its neck, and discarding the decaying skull as the body fell lifelessly to the ground.

Buffy gasped as she saw the frightening image of a vampire-faced Darla leering at her. As if she…

_As if she's hungry,_ Buffy realized in horror.

In a flash of supernatural speed, Darla seized the younger woman by the throat, Buffy gasping as she felt the vampiress's hand clamp down on her windpipe. The blood from the zombie had awakened something deep and primal with the older blonde, something long forgotten but always present - the demonic lust for blood.

"Darla! Darla, stop! _Stop_! What are you _doing_?" Buffy rasped out, surprised by how strong the vampiress was.

Lost in the bloodlust, Darla held her grip fast, an evil grin still on her face as she leered at the squirming Buffy, growling in anticipation.

Every instinct in the Slayer's mind told her to fight, but she knew she couldn't. Buffy had begun to like the woman, and she knew that to attempt to harm Darla now would be to lose her to the dark side forever. _Hope this works…_

"Darla…Darla, please, it's me! It's _me_! Buffy, remember? You don't want to…hurt me! This isn't…the real you!"

"It is _now_," Darla growled, that hauntingly evil smile still on her face as she lowered her fangs to Buffy's throbbing jugular…

"_Connor_!" Buffy suddenly blurted out, causing Darla to recoil. "Connor…think about him, damn it! Think of your son! How the hell do you think he'd react, if he saw you like _this_?"

The words had their desired effect as Darla drew back, a look of recognition now in her demonic amber eyes. "C-connor?" she repeated slowly, unsurely.

Hope began to rise in Buffy's heart at the hesitation in the vampiress's face. "Yes. You love him, remember? He wouldn't want this for you. Please, Darla…don't make me fight you. Not now. Not when we're so close to the end. Please, _remember why we're here_!"

Slowly, Darla's grip on Buffy's throat began to loosen, eventually dropping the Slayer to the ground as Connor's mother slowly shifted her features back to her normal human guise.

Shaking her head, Darla's hand clasped her forehead as she mentally tried to get ahold of herself. _Oh dear God, what have I done? What was I __**about**__to do...?_

Buffy glanced warily at the woman above her. "Darla? Are you…"

"Fine. I'm fine," Darla rasped as she steadied herself, offering the downed Slayer her hand. "I'm…sorry about that."

Hesitating for a moment, Buffy grabbed hold of Darla's hand as she rose to her feet. "Yeah. Okay. We're good…I think."

Suddenly, the ground began to quake and rumble as Jasmine and the Beastmaster, with Cordelia's soul in tow, suddenly rose up into the sky on a rapidly growing mountain peak that erupted out of the ground.

"They're getting away!" Darla shouted.

"The hell they are," a scowling Buffy retorted. She was tired of these games. It was time to end this. "Let's go!"

Taking advantage of the unconventional principles this mindscape worked by, the two heroines flew - literally up, up and away - after the villainous pair, shooting upwards into the sky faster than the rocky cliff was growing. At last they caught up with the black hats and their cargo, landing with a quick tandem roll onto the cliff's peak, where the Beastmaster and Jasmine were waiting.

"Enough with the mind games," Buffy growled, brandishing her sword. "Now let Cordelia go or you both die, here and now!"

Again, 'Cordelia' laughed at her, her sharp knife now morphing into a deadly three-pronged trident. "Oh, I don't think so. This time, it's the two of you that are gonna take the big dirt nap. For keeps, that is."

"Think again," Darla menaced, eyeing the Beastmaster contemptuously. "Whatever you're planning, it won't work. This is the end of the line!"

"Oh, I'm afraid not, Darla," Jasmine smiled sinisterly, as the air around her hands twisted until it morphed into a weapon…a heavy sledgehammer. "This is just the beginning."

"Good," Buffy said, her muscles tensing for battle. "I hate being late. Now, shut up and fight!"

At those words, Buffy's sword clashed with Jasmine's hammer, and Darla's blade collided with the Beastmaster's trident. The final battle for Cordelia's soul had begun.

Darla and 'Cordelia' traded fierce blows, each harder than the one before. For Darla, this was the battle that she had been waiting for since this creature had pulled her back into this world; ever since this…_parasite_ had twisted her son's mind nearly to the point of no return.

Now, she had the opportunity to pay this thing back in kind. And then some.

For the Beastmaster, her motivation was slightly different. In her warped world-view, Darla had been the catalyst that had sent a brilliant plan to acquire a human body and a place at the right hand of the First Evil, to be a major player in a new world order…practically tumbling down in ruins.

Never mind that the First would have screwed the Beastmaster over, with Cordelia's body either dying or ending up a vegetable after the mystical birth pains and delivery; in the fake Cordelia's mind, this _bitch_ had ruined - was ruining - her chance to have it all.

And for that, the Beastmaster was intent on making Darla pay the ultimate price.

"Is that it? Is that all you got?" 'Cordelia' taunted, as she evaded one of Darla's deadly sword slashes. "And here I heard you were some kind of deadly killer, Working Girl."

As she thrust the trident at Darla's heart, the blonde woman parried what would have been a fatal blow, driving the trident's head to the ground.

Looking into the scornful eyes of her son's tormentor, Darla flashed a malevolent grin…right before her face shifted into its terrifying vampire form. "You heard right."

Her game face had the desired effect, as the smug, evil look on the face of 'Cordelia' quickly changed to one of wide-eyed, gap-jawed surprise. Darla took advantage of that opening, lashing out with a hard right hook that caught 'Cordelia' full in the jaw, rocking her backwards.

Dropping the sword, Darla - the feel of old, long forgotten power rushing through her - suddenly decided to do this the old-fashioned way.

"The first mistake you made…is you picked a kid to do your dirty work for you," Darla growled, a left jab striking the Beastmaster right in the face.

"The second mistake you made…is you picked _my_ kid as your pawn!" With righteous fury, Darla drove her knee right into the imposter Cordelia's stomach, rewarded with the creature's grunt of pain.

"But your biggest mistake, the one that's gonna cost you your life…is you totally _pissed _-"

Punch. "_Me_."

Punch. "_**Off**_!"

As the Beastmaster wobbled on her feet, dazed, bruised and bloodied, Darla delivered her final blow…

_**Ka-pow!**_

…an uppercut that knocked the fake Cordelia to the ground, defeated.

With satisfaction, Darla spat on the fallen Beastmaster. "_Bitch_!"

Meanwhile, Buffy was having her hands full with Jasmine, who was eagerly trying to crush the Slayer's skull with her heavy hammer. Buffy's lightning-quick Slayer reflexes were all that were keeping her from the hammer's blows. Jasmine was unbelievably fast and powerful. Stronger than the Master ever was. Maybe even more powerful than Glory.

"You can't keep this up forever, Buffy," Jasmine taunted the petite blonde warrior. "You might have the power of the demon, but in the end, you're only human. Whereas I…am eternal."

"Eternal, huh? Is that why you never shut up?" Buffy sarcastically retorted, still geared for battle.

"You have spunk, I'll give you that. And heart," Jasmine said, moving in a blur of speed as she brought the deadly hammer down, Buffy narrowly escaping a blow so powerful that it completely shattered the ground where the hammer landed. "It's a shame I'm going to have to rip it out."

Buffy smirked. "Gee, with talk like that - are ya wondering now why I had such a hard time believing all that 'perfect world' crap you were spouting, before you and your lackey bitch sicc'ed a bunch of zombies on me and Darla?" Suddenly the Slayer paused, her own words jarring back a memory - about the true nature of the Beastmaster, as an agent of the First.

As she dodged another blow, Buffy rapidly began talking. "By the way, I got a newsflash for you. Whatever that thing is that you've aligned yourself with, it's not who you think it is. She…it…whatever, the fake Cordy's actually working for the First Evil."

A look of surprise flashed across Jasmine's face at Buffy's words, before the fallen Power laughed. "Oh, please. That creature might be irritatingly independent at times, but it's been my ally for eons. She knows her place, even if occasionally she might not act like it. Seriously, Buffy, did you really think I'd fall for something like that? I'm one of the Powers That Be, a being forged in the fires of Creation. Secrets are a little hard to keep from creatures like myself."

"Well, in that case, you should know all about how that thing and its pal - you know the one, which the other Powers caught and killed? - how they were double-dealing under the table with the First way before they met you, right?" Buffy challenged. "How the plan was for the First to make a play for this new body you're baking, push you out and grab it for itself, and the Beastmaster gets Cordy's body in exchange?"

Buffy could see doubt begin to set in on the Power's face. "You're lying," Jasmine fiercely accused.

"No I'm not," Buffy said sincerely, but maintaining her warrior's gaze. "And somewhere deep down you know it, too. You've been played, Jasmine. The fake Cordy and her boss, they played you right from the start; and you fell for it hook, line and sinker - like some rube getting suckered in by a crooked used car salesman. But it's not too late, you can still -"

"_Enough_!" Jasmine interrupted with a shout, bringing down her hammer so hard that the aftershock of the blow knocked Buffy off her feet. Before Buffy could even register what happened, the angry Power had her by the throat, driving her straight into the stone wall of the cliff behind her.

"You're just trying to trick me," Jasmine said threateningly, her face twisted into a mask of anger. "Trying to stop me from saving this world with my love. But I've come too far, and sacrificed too much, and I won't be stopped now by the likes of you!"

Buffy tried to kick the angry Power away, but it was like trying to push away a steel wall. Behind a titanium wall. That was encased in lead. No matter how much she squirmed or clawed at this thing, even Buffy's Slayer strength was simply no match for that of a Power That Be.

Jasmine's free left hand pulled back and suddenly began to glow green, maggots and worms immediately crawling out of it, eliciting a horrified look from the pinned Buffy.

"Would you like to know what one of my other abilities is?" Jasmine smiled, an evil knowing look on her face. "It's what I call my necrotic touch. And since I know you skipped that lecture in biology class, let me explain what I mean exactly. Certain events, such as death, can cause the decay of human tissue. But that process can take months, even years, under normal circumstances. My touch…" she glanced at her glowing green, maggoty hand, "…accelerates that process much, much faster."

Appraising the wide-eyed Slayer with her eyes, Jasmine smiled sinisterly. "You really do have such a pretty face, Buffy. It's a shame I'm about to turn it into a rotten, putrid mess."

In the meanwhile, the Beastmaster, coughing and wheezing in pain, had crawled along the ground, reaching desperately for her trident…only to be stopped when Darla, moving with an uncanny speed only a vampire could muster, had kicked the hammer away, stomping down hard on the imposter's right hand.

"AGGGGHHHHH!" 'Cordelia' had cried out in pain as Darla, now in human face, stood over her, her blade poised right above her throat, icy blue eyes coldly regarding the murderous parasite.

Fearfully, the Beastmaster had begun to try to talk her way out of this mess. "Darla, please! Please, don't…don't - I-I-I was tricked, I never wanted to…please, I'm begging you, have mercy!"

"_Mercy_?" Darla spat, furious. "Like you showed my son, when you were warping his mind? Like you showed that girl in the factory, when you were about to kill her? Or the thousands of people who died at the hands of the Beast, or during the Rain of Fire and the Permanent Midnight?"

Darla raised the blade up high, ready to plunge it down into the cowering Beastmaster's throat. To symbolically and literally end her. "I've got your mercy right here…"

But then Darla paused when she saw what was happening on the other side of the cliff, where Buffy was overpowered by Jasmine; who held a green-glowing, maggot-covered hand only a few inches from the Slayer's face.

Understanding her enemy's frozen indecision, 'Cordelia' laughed. "Uh-oh. Looks like your little buddy's in a lot of trouble! Guess you have a decision to make, Darla. What's it going to be, kill the thing that screwed with your retard kid - or save your new friend? Decisions, decisions. Better hurry, you only have time for -"

With incredible speed, Darla drove her heel into the Beastmaster's jaw, effectively shutting her up. Shifting into vampire face, Darla then leapt all the way across to Jasmine and Buffy, landing a hard flying kick that knocked the stunned Power backwards and freed the Slayer.

Gasping for breath, Buffy managed to quickly steady herself as she rose to her feet, grabbing her sword.

"You alright?" Darla asked, not liking how Jasmine was already starting to get up.

"I will be, once Maggot Girl over there is worm food," Buffy replied testily. "Thanks for the save."

"Don't mention it." Darla looked at her, warily. "I don't think a sword going to be enough."

Eyeing her slyly, Buffy smirked. "I know."

With that, the sword in her hands suddenly morphed into an AT-4 shoulder-mounted missile launcher. Slinging the rocket launcher over her shoulder, Buffy took aim at the fallen Power.

"That's why it's time to break out the big guns," the blonde smiled…right before she pulled the trigger and fired the LAW rocket, which exploded in a fiery ball of shrapnel and death after it hit Jasmine full in the chest.

Staring at the large ball of smoke and fire, Darla and Buffy waited to see if the battle was truly over.

"You think it worked?" Darla asked the Slayer, as she carefully scanned for any signs of life.

Her answer came a moment later as a tattered, ashy and furious Jasmine emerged from the carnage, a murderous look in her eyes.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say 'no,'" Buffy winced.

Slowly walking towards her foes, Jasmine railed at the Slayer, "An exploding missile. Really, Buffy, who do you think I am - the Judge? I'm power incarnate, I was a god before the concept of God even existed - and you attack me with your _toys_?"

Gritting her teeth, Buffy's rocket launcher morphed back into a sword as she prepared for Round 3.

"Figured it was worth a shot," Buffy shot back as she and Darla charged Jasmine, managing to land several hard slices to the fallen Power's face, arms, legs and torso. But Jasmine simply shrugged off the lethal blows, her skin healing itself almost immediately as her foes continued their fruitless assault.

As Buffy swung hard at Jasmine's throat - hoping for a decapitation - Jasmine blocked the blow before grabbing Buffy and tossing her several feet into the air, the Slayer landing unmercifully hard against the wall of stone as she slid to the ground, dazed.

Darla, still in game face, twirled rapidly as she sliced at Jasmine's kneecaps, surprising Jasmine as she fell to her knees. As Darla hauled back and prepared to bring her sword down across Jasmine's neck, the fallen Power's fist shot out and caught Darla in the stomach, sending her flying backwards until she landed hard on the ground.

_Ouch! _Now in her human guise, Darla groaned as she slowly opened her eyes…and just barely caught the wooden spear that was about to plunge into her chest, wielded by a bleeding and enraged 'Cordelia.'

"This is getting annoying," the Beastmaster growled, wanting to erase the humiliation she'd previously undergone.

"Tell me about it," Darla growled back, as those two started going at it hammer and spear all over again.

Not far away Buffy, still dazed and laying on the ground, was yanked up by Jasmine, who held the Slayer in another death grip.

"That's it. I've _had it_ with you, you stupid little brat," Jasmine sneered. "Don't you get what I'm trying to do? What I'm trying to accomplish?"

As she struggled to breathe, Buffy's eyes focused on the slumbering Cordelia Chase in her amber cocoon. Another memory of Lindsey's words echoed in her mind…

_You need its name. Thing is, we don't have it. But Cordelia does. The real one, that is. It's locked deep in her subconscious….Once you wake Cordelia's subconscious up, she should be able to divulge the name. Hell, it might even be the first thing that comes out of her mouth._

Gathering what breath she could, Buffy called out to her sleeping high school classmate. "Cordy…Cordelia, if you can hear me, please, listen to me! I need you…to wake up. Now, or you're going to die here! You're under a spell. This thing is going to kill us! And then Angel, Xander, Willow, Giles and all of our friends…_everyone_! Please…I can't stop it…I tried, but I can't. But you can! You can stop this. Now, get off your ass and wake up! _Cordy_! _**WAKE UP**_!"

Jasmine laughed with heartfelt mirth at Buffy's futile efforts, as the unconscious brunette still slumbered peacefully inside her yellow shell.

"You honestly expected that girl - a failed actress and someone who was little more than one of Angel's groupies - to wake up now? At this late stage?" Jasmine chuckled as her grip around Buffy's throat tightened. "You really are all out of tricks, aren't you? Too bad - for you. Because as much fun as this has been, Buffy, it's time for me to end our little game - on account of you've put my plans way too far behind schedule, as it is."

Unbeknownst to both the Power and the Slayer, though, deep within the amber cocoon…Cordelia's eyes began to slowly flutter.

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Lobby**

**The same time**

* * *

Werewolf Oz wildly clawed and slashed at the armor-plated Skip, his steel trap-like jaws clamping around and breaking off the organic metal ring under Skip's chin, causing the merc to cry out in pain.

They had been wrestling for several minutes, the berserk lupine creature proving to be a remarkably formidable foe.

As he threw the enraged wolf off of him, Skip staggered to his feet, green blood pouring from the wound Oz had inflicted - something which, while painful, was not enough to actually stop him. As the werewolf charged him again, Skip - picking his moment carefully - landed a well-aimed kick to the side of Werewolf Oz's head, causing the creature to stagger backwards. Pressing his advantage, Skip followed up with three hard blows that eventually dropped the wolf to the ground, unconscious.

"That's it, Snoopy, play dead," Skip sneered, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief over how close this creature had come to beating him.

At that moment, Skip decided that all this simply wasn't worth it anymore. He was a mercenary, thus he followed the money - went wherever the deal was, so to speak. But the risk-reward ratio had now gone too far in the other direction. He'd stuck his neck out to serve the First, albeit through the Beastmaster, who'd promised him great power as his reward; and yet, what had that gotten him?

Getting beaten up by a broody undead schmuck like Angel, caged like an animal for ages, and getting ridiculed by humans and lesser demons alike - most of whom he could crap out after breakfast - like a damn circus chimp, especially that Xander kid. His so-called boss hadn't even seen fit to spring him before getting captured itself, probably having been too busy hatching its own stupid plans.

_Well,_ Skip decided as he stared at the unconscious werewolf, _I'm done with this particular job now_. He was nobody's sap, not even the ultimate evil's. _Screw it, no amount of money and power is worth all this!_

Therefore, he was now going to have to cut his losses…starting off by killing off the human vessel, before the 'baby' could be born. Skip had a few favors owed that he could call in from sources he'd kept close to over the last few centuries - favors that would buy him some protection for a little while, before he figured out his next move.

But first things first - namely, taking care of all of these annoying do-gooders in here who'd dared to mock him, before slaughtering Mommy Dearest.

Walking menacingly towards Fred, who was crawling away in desperation, Skip picked her first.

"Now, what were you saying earlier? Something about…infinite agony?" the demon asked tauntingly before he picked up the bleeding, gasping brunette woman by the throat as if she was nothing.

Without warning, Gunn let out a loud war cry as he came out of nowhere and began hacking away at the silver demon, raining down angry blows with his sword. Sighing in irritation, Skip dropped Fred and backhanded Gunn across the floor, sending him skidding against the reception desk.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to work here," snapped the annoyed Skip.

"Work this," a voice called out from above.

Suddenly, two ninja stars came flying at him, embedding themselves in the armor but doing no real damage. Skip looked up to see Robin Wood, all business and armed with a large bayonet, charging down the staircase towards him.

"Oh, good, more of you meat puppets to smack around," Skip sneered, as the son of Nikki Wood delivered several skilled, well-timed cuts to the mercenary's head and torso. Any other demon would have been hacked to pieces, but the organic metal covering Skip's body was simply too durable.

"Okay, you're done," Skip sighed as he hauled back and threw a punch that launched Robin backwards and into a stone column, the principal groaning as he clutched at his injured back.

Seeing no one else able or willing to challenge him, Skip started towards the mystical triangle holding the still-entranced Buffy, Darla and Cordelia, Willow still in a meditative trance that prevented her from helping.

But then a bloodied Xander, staggering to his feet, understood Skip's intentions and immediately picked up his battle axe and charged the demon, whacking him in the back; even if the blow harmlessly clanged off Skip's thick hide. Skip then instinctively whirled around and backhanded Xander over the circular couch in the middle of the hotel.

"You are really starting to bug the crap outta me, kid," Skip growled.

As he finished his complaint, two bullets fired by Wesley's semiautomatic handgun hit Skip square in the chest, the impacts making his torso recoil slightly, but not doing any harm. Wesley then continued to fire, his precise aim allowing him to hit the merc's skull, shoulders and chest.

_**BANG! BANG! BANG! **_Wesley knew that bullets would most likely not succeed anymore than swords and axes had, but he was hoping to either find a weakness in the nearly-impenetrable armor or at least buy some time for a last-minute miracle to occur.

His efforts were for naught, though, as Skip, positioning his body at just the right angle, managed to deflect a bullet back towards Wesley, which blasted the gun out of his hand and wounded him.

As Wesley clutched his bleeding right hand with a loud curse, Skip shook his head at Wesley's futile attack. "Do those things _ever_ work? Really." A few moments later, Wes was on the ground and fighting to stay conscious.

As Giles struggled to get to his feet - only a few feet away from the merc - Skip simply kicked him in the face, cold-cocking the Watcher as he continued to head towards his four primary targets.

"Excuse me, old timer, comin' through," Skip dismissively said as he passed Giles by.

Skip examined the magical spell connecting the women, briefly musing over who he should pick off first. He _could_ start with the witch, and hopefully take care of business with all four femmes at once - but he didn't want to risk waking the Slayer up. Little Miss Tiny had that annoying habit of screwing things up for everyone, after all - like finding her way here at this moment in time, when she wasn't supposed to.

_Slayer first, then?_ he mused, but almost straightaway Skip figured the real prize would be in killing the First's chosen vessel. Her death would piss off his now ex-boss, as well as hurt that chump-nut Angel badly.

_Two birds, one stone,_ Skip smirked as he hovered over the pregnant Cordelia. _Okay, May Queen, it looks like your number's up._

Xander's head was full of pain, and everything hurt. He was bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose, he had a nasty cut above his right eye, and he could barely stand - let alone fight. But as he saw Skip standing so close to Cordelia, not to mention his two best friends, with that terrible smile on his metal mug and not one good guy left standing, Xander could think of nothing else except that he _could not let this happen_.

Offering a quick prayer and grabbing a nearby sword, Xander dug deep and somehow found the strength to run towards the demon, weapon raised high as he prepared to defend the four helpless women -

- only to be brought crashing down to the ground, after Skip whirled around and delivered a powerful punch that knocked him to the floor _yet again_.

"What's with you, ya goofball? Are you in love with pain or something?" Skip shook his head in mock surprise.

Somehow - shaking, bleeding and exhausted - Xander managed to make it to his knees, crawling backwards until he fell against Cordelia, acting as a last desperate human shield for the helpless brunette.

In amazement, Skip stared down at the half-dead guy before him, the only thing between him and his intended target - the still-slumbering Cordelia. "Are you completely nuts, monkey boy? Do you have any idea what else I could do to you?"

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Xander, his right eye now swollen nearly shut, glared up at the callous demon mercenary, inching his body in front of his helplessly unaware ex-girlfriend. "Bite me, you…filthy demon…son of a…bitch."

"You still don't get it, do you?" Skip coldly answered, he hated any aspersions on his mother as much as the next demon. "Here you are, trying to save your ex's life - but. _She. Didn't. Love You_. The stupid bitch never even _liked_ you, either! Whatever you thought she felt for you back then - it was all smoke and mirrors, prearranged from before both of you were born. Your little 'thing' together was as fake as Pamela Anderson's boob job! Basically just hormones, nothing more than a means to an end. And if you're still in my way in the next five seconds..."

With that, Skip raised his huge silver metallic fist.

"This is gonna go through BOTH of your chests, and you'll end up heading off into the afterlife together, hand in hand. So lemme ask you, grease stain - just outta academic interest, of course, since I'm gonna kill you and everyone else around here anyway - is it really worth you throwing your life away over something that wasn't even real?"

At that, a flood of memories rushed into Xander's battered mind_...their first passionate kiss in Buffy's basement...the many kisses that had followed in the halls, in closets, in empty stairwells...Cordelia blowing off Harmony and the other Cordettes to walk off hand-in-hand with him in the school courtyard...late nights in her father's car...sweet moments holding each other in comfortable silence...pictures of him, of *them* in her locker..._

Trembling but still defiant, Xander's brown eye (the one that wasn't swollen shut) stared into the evil red eyes of the demonic mercenary. "It was...real...for me..." Harris spluttered out, firmly planting himself between Cordelia and her impending murderer. "And you'll...hurt her...over my...dead...body!"

Skip stared at Cordelia's white knight for a moment, with a look that was akin to respect...before he shrugged and hauled his fist backwards.

"Yeah," Skip nodded, ready to deal the final, deadly blow. "That I will."

It was only a moment. One split second. But as Wesley's keen eyes zeroed in on Skip, he took notice of one weak spot, one opening…a small hole in the left side of his head, oozing green blood, where one of the demon's horns used to be before Angel tore it off in that fight yesterday.

Finally, the British man had found the chink in the demon's armor.

His mind and body reacting as one with remarkable speed, Wesley, spotting his discarded gun, rolled across the floor in one fluid motion, picked up the gun, and opened fire.

Pryce's aim, honed to perfection with countless hours of practice throughout the last few months, was true and deadly as he fired his last round into the small opening in Skip's head, piercing his brain just as the demon was about to deliver the death blow to Xander and Cordelia.

In shock, Xander's head whipped around to find Wesley's grim face eyeing the mortally wounded demon coldly but warily.

Skip swayed for a moment, using his last breath to mutter his feelings of astonishment in one sentence: "Well, that ain't right."

And then he fell to the floor, stone cold dead.

Xander, Fred, Whistler, Lindsey and Robin, the only ones still conscious (if barely) all stared at Wesley in awe.

The ex-Watcher simply shrugged, turned to Xander and gave a wordless, yet appreciative nod. Xander, who beheld the Englishman's level gaze, reciprocated the nod with one of his own, each man having a newfound respect for the other.

Staring at the lifeless body of the metallic demon on the floor, oozing greenish blood out of his head, Whistler couldn't resist. "Clean-up on Aisle 1!"

"Not now, short stuff," Lindsey groused, barely sparing Whistler a glance as he continued to look at Wesley, completely dumbfounded at the man's skill. But he refused to give his rival a compliment, even within his own mind. Lindsey still had his pride, after all.

Giles, who had just awakened, leaned on a now-awake Kennedy and Robin for support while Whistler went to check on the slowly stirring Oz, who had shifted back to his human form after being knocked out. Andrew, who had hidden in the corner during the fight, helped Anya to her feet while Lorne managed to regain his own footing.

"Nice shot," Robin nodded to Wesley.

"Yeah, you were like James Bond, circa Golden Eye," Andrew enthusiastically praised him.

"And where were _you_ during all the fighting?" Anya asked the comic geek, her eyes accusingly staring at him.

"Um, w-well, I was kinda fray-adjacent during the whole thing, but I was totally rooting for all you guys!" Andrew smiled nervously off the dirty looks he received from both crews.

"Yes, how very brave of you," Giles acidly replied as he scowled at the rapidly shrinking former member of the Trio.

"Hate to…say it. But, Giles, think…about it. Andrew. Holding sharp things, or things that…shoot out…flying…fatality," Xander reasoned, still bleeding everywhere and clutching his sore ribs.

A beat. "Yes. You're quite right. Point taken," Giles relented, wincing in pain.

"Is he…you know, dead?" Fred asked as she went to Gunn's aid, her ex-boyfriend slowly coming to.

"He looks dead," Xander said with a slow wheezing of air as he crawled away from the sacred circle, sending one last look at Cordelia before returning his gaze to Skip.

Wishing he could kick the corpse just once for good measure, Xander hacked and coughed before saying, "Unless he can…magically regenerate his brain cells after being shot in the head, I'd say…he's dead."

Swallowing nervously, Harris suddenly turned to Wesley. "He can't…do that, right?"

"I very much doubt it," Wesley said, just before Anya went over to lift Xander up off the ground. "I looked up his species a little while ago, searching for weaknesses and such. There was no mention of any such thing."

"Great. Okay, the metallo-demon thing's dead, but now what?" Gunn asked, holding Fred close as they leaned against each other for support. "Slay-gal and Darla still aren't out of the woods, unless they get that name. And it's not exactly like it's simply gonna pop up around here, just like that -"

Right on cue, bolts of lightning began to crackle in the middle of the hotel lobby as an indigo portal suddenly swirled open…

…and out popped a tattered Angel, holding the blue sphere key to Demon-Bug World in one hand and the head of an insectoid demon with its mouth stitched shut in the other. He had been on quite an adventure lately, battling demons in Jasmine's former temple - such as the Keeper of the Name and the Guardian of the Word.

"Angel!" Fred blurted out, stunned.

"Huh. The guy still knows how to make an entrance," Lindsey said with a shake of his head.

As the portal closed behind him, Angel quickly assessed the damage to the hotel and the bruises and wounds his crew and the Sunnydale group had sustained.

"What happened here? Is everyone alright?" Angel asked rapidly. "This place looks like a war zone!"

"We're fine, we just survived an…" Wesley answered, then trailed off when he saw the head of the demon in Angel's hand. "Err, what exactly is that?"

"The final piece we need to get the real Cordy back and end this, hopefully," Angel replied, grabbing one of the nearby knives. "Have Faith and the others come back yet?"

"We thought they were with you, from what Buffy said," Giles replied.

Shaking his head, Angel decided he would worry about that later. He had four beautiful women to save…one of them being the woman he loved.

"Everyone, get back," the undead Champion said, preparing to slice the threads on the demon's mouth holding this mysterious Power's true name. "I've got no idea what's gonna happen, exactly, when I…"

Angel trailed off, his eyes suddenly taking notice of a badly injured Xander - who was still being visibly supported by Anya. _What the…_

Confused at the vampire's sudden attention, Xander asked, "What?"

"Well. It's just…you look really terrible," Angel said, with a hint of concern. He might not have liked Xander very much, but he was Buffy's friend - and he had never seen Harris this badly damaged before. _Looks like he needs a quick trip to the hospital, more than anyone else around here…_

Anya had to agree with Angel's assessment. Her former betrothed looked like he had just gone fifteen rounds against Mike Tyson at the top of his game. After calling him a sissy. Everything Anya had wanted to do to Xander after he'd left her at the altar last year, it was as if Skip had finally done it for her.

Everything Cordelia had wanted to do to Xander after he'd cheated with Willow, ditto.

_He was willing to die for her just now, _Anya thought to herself, briefly glancing in Cordelia's direction before shifting her weight to keep Xander upright. _Unbelievable, how the big dummy was going to sacrifice his life - just for that bitchy ex-client of mine, who willingly left him behind in her dust years ago. I swear, Xander, I will never understand what goes on inside that stupid, loveable head of yours…_

Though it hurt to smile, Xander smirked as he appraised Angel's torn shirt and still-bleeding, though rapidly-healing wounds. "You should talk, pal."

"Vampire here, I heal fast. You, not so much," Angel replied.

"I'll be fine, Deadboy," Xander waved him off as he eyed Cordelia again. "Besides…" Harris then looked over towards Skip's corpse with a dark, satisfied smile. "You should see the other guy."

* * *

**Inside Cordelia's Mind**

**Now**

* * *

Human consciousness is a funny thing. When you're awake, you know who and what you are, where your place is in this amazing universe.

When you're asleep, the mind rests after the day's labors are finally over, recovering in the blessed absence of conscious thought.

And then there was the place between awake and asleep. The place where you can vividly remember dreams…and nightmares. The place where you can hear the disembodied voices of the people around you; voices shouting, pleading, and cursing at you.

"_Cordy_! _**WAKE UP**_!"

"_It was...real...for me. __And you'll...hurt her...over my...dead...body!"_

_I know those voices_, was the first conscious thought that went through the mind of Cordelia Chase in nearly eight months.

Deep within that accursed amber cocoon, Cordelia began to stir as a tornado of memories started to whirl around in her subconscious mind.

_Doyle's passionate good-bye kiss that passed her the visions onto her…_

_Working alongside Angel, Wesley and Gunn case after case, night after night, becoming a team, a family…_

_Each vision becoming more painful than the next, the cumulative effects starting to damage her brain according to the doctors she'd secretly consulted…_

_Disappearing into Pylea, finding Fred…coming back after having been declared the princess of the realm, naturally enough…_

_Skip and his offer to demonize her on the astral plane, in order to be able to hang onto the visions…the strange new powers associated with having become part-demon…_

_Connor's birth…Groo…Connor's disappearance and Angel's grief…Connor's return and assault on the team…_

_Groo leaving her that night…Skip…ascending to the Higher Planes…that revelation of the ultimate deception by one of the Powers…_

_The hardest choice she'd ever had to make - giving up all her memories of her friends, her life…descending back down to the mortal plane…that __**stupid **__goddamn memory spell..._

_Being forced to watch but unable to act as those horrible creatures used her body for accomplishing terrible deeds…_

_The Beast and the Rain of Fire…her night of passion with Connor…Lilah's murder at her own hands…_

_No,_ a horrified Cordelia thought as she restlessly stirred within her amber prison, as if trapped in a nightmare.

_Killing that Manny guy, another death at her hands, this time Lizzie Borden style…_

_The Permanent Midnight over LA…_

_Killing the Svear priestesses and the rest of their family…_

_The overnight pregnancy…_

_Stealing Angel's soul…manipulating her family from within, like a cancer…_

_Slowly poisoning Connor's mind…_

_That virgin girl to be used in that unholy ritual, to bring forth the fallen Power inside her… _

_Oh, please, God, no,_ Cordelia's mind silently begged, as she struggled against the unconsciousness brought on by the spell trapping her in the cocoon. _Make it stop, please…no…_

_Nearly repeating the birthing ritual again, only this time with Dawn, sweet little Dawn Summers who she'd loved like a sister, as the victim…_

_Breaking two hearts at once, as she gleefully revealed her tryst with Connor to her shocked and hurt friends back at the hotel…_

_Her captors' attempts to kill Buffy and Darla as they tried to free her… _

"_Cordy_! _**WAKE UP**_!"

"_**WAKE UP**_!"

"_**WAKE UP**_!"

_NOOO!_

With a loud gasp, Cordelia's eyes burst open…

…and then she screamed.

Cordelia Chase shrieked like a damned soul in the pits of Hell as a brilliant white light exploded out of her eyes and mouth that cracked open the cocoon, at the same time that an earthquake suddenly thundered throughout the entire mindscape and the noise became deafening.

Struck in the back by the light as she held the struggling Buffy within her grasp, Jasmine cried out in pain, her face morphing into its rotted, maggot-encrusted, true form.

"NO! Not _now -_!" Jasmine screamed as the light engulfed her, dropping Buffy to the ground before the concussive force of the light threw her into the wall of the cliff, which shattered and came tumbling down on top of the fallen Power.

Confused, Buffy stared up at the brilliant light that was consuming Jasmine and directed her gaze towards the source…Cordelia, whose cocoon was beginning to rapidly crumble apart.

"Cordy!" Buffy exclaimed. as she staggered to her feet towards her former Scooby teammate.

The next moment, the brilliant light from the true Cordelia Chase struck the Beastmaster full-on as she and Darla fought tooth and nail.

Staggering backwards in surprise, Darla watched in shock as the screaming 'Cordelia' cried out in agony.

_No, it can't be! This can't be happening! Not now! It's not fair! NOT FAIR! _the horrified Beastmaster mentally wailed.

"No, NO, _NOOAAAIIIIIEEE_!" the Beastmaster shrieked - Darla briefly catching a glimpse of the skeletal form of a deformed, worm-like being within the light as the fake Cordelia's body began to decompose and burn away…

…until there was nothing left of the murderous creature except a pile of ashes.

With grim satisfaction, Darla stared at the ashes of her fallen foe. "Good riddance," she said vindictively.

At last, the cocoon completely disintegrated as a dazed and barely conscious Cordelia fell forward, about to land flat on her face on the hard ground…

…when Buffy, moving with incredible speed, gently caught the tired Seer and gently lowered her to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Cordelia panted and groaned, clutching her head in pain. She felt as if a fog had lifted from her mind, like she hadn't been awake in a very long time.

"Cordy? Cordelia, can you hear me?" Buffy gently shook her, as Cordelia's eyes slowly fluttered open to meet the worried gaze of the Slayer.

"Wha…Buffy?" Cordelia murmured, her eyes scrunched in confusion. "Whuzit…what's going on? I can't…"

"It's okay, Cordy. It's okay," Buffy reassured her, giving her a small smile. "It's over. You're safe now."

During this time, Darla had made her way over to the pair of Sunnydale High School graduates.

"How do you feel?" a concerned Buffy asked Cordelia.

The Vision Girl groaned as she struggled to sit up, her 'muscles' weak from months of non-use. "Like I just got the…life sucked out of me. Guess that's how some unlucky saps feel after a vampire atta -"

Before she could finish her sentence, Cordelia's stunned hazel eyes widened at the sight of Darla, who was now standing right next to Buffy. Gasping in fright, Cordelia - now fully awake - began scampering backwards on the ground.

"Darla? _Buffy, look out_! It's Dar -" the brunette started to say.

"Whoa, Cordy, chill!" Buffy interrupted, her hands held out placatingly. "It's okay; she's just here to, y'know, help..."

Glaring at Angel's sire, Cordelia scoffed, "Yeah, sure! The last time I was this close to that bitch, she tried to help me, alright…help herself to my _jugular_ as one of her pregnancy cravings snacks!"

Cordy then scrunched her eyes in confusion as she stared at the ex-vampiress. "Wait, hang on a second…didn't you die, _again_? So how the hell are you even _here_?"

As Darla gave Buffy an exasperated look, the blonde Slayer exhaled wearily. "Yeah, that's a really long story, Cordy…" Buffy began to say…

…just as the debris from the shattered cliff wall suddenly exploded everywhere, revealing an angry, rotted-faced Jasmine.

"…which we apparently don't have time for," Buffy finished in wary surprise as Darla and Cordelia gaped in shock at the despoiled fallen Power.

"What the -?" Darla asked, baffled. "I thought Lindsey told us that Cordelia waking up and unleashing the Power's name would destroy it!"

"Yeah, well, that's the thing about the intelligence business - sometimes, your sources get it wrong," Buffy told her, girding herself for battle once again.

"What the hell is _that_?" Cordelia demanded in bewilderment, before turning surprised eyes to Darla at her statement. "And…_Lindsey_? He's here, too? Who else is making surprise appearances, Holtz? Maybe the Master, while we're at it?"

"Funny story there, actually," Darla shook her head at the mention of the Master, as she eyed the angry Power.

"Which we don't have time for," Buffy reminded her as she constructed a new sword from thin air. "Cordelia, get behind us. If Darla and I can't beat this thing…run."

"Run? Run where?" Cordelia shouted, confused and gesturing at the desolate mindscape. "What the hell is going on here?"

As Darla moved to stand alongside her, armed and ready for battle, Buffy began looking around frantically. Cordelia was right; there was nowhere to run to…except that portal that was supposed to have magically appeared once the real Cordy had woken up. _Okay, she's awake now - so where the hell is that portal?_

"This is _too much_!" Jasmine thundered out, her face returning to normal as she malevolently eyed the trio of women. Eyeing Cordelia, she growled, "You, you're going straight back into your cage, Mother!" She turned to face Buffy and Darla. "But not before I take care of these two meddling -"

Suddenly, Jasmine clutched her ears in pain as a long, whistling noise - her true name which had been exhaled with the last breath of a dead demon into Cordelia's ear by Angel, to be exact - echoed throughout the mindscape. Again, her facial features shifted into their rotted maggot form as Jasmine fell to her knees.

Suddenly, the air swooshed and swirled behind the three women as a blue portal opened behind them.

"What's that?" Cordelia asked, growing more confused by the second.

"Our gateway back home," Buffy replied, eying the swirling vortex in appreciation.

The Vision Girl accepted that, even if her confusion level hadn't changed. "How'd that happen, anyway?" Cordelia inquired.

Buffy paused for a moment, before she allowed herself a small smile. "Angel."

Cordelia's eyes shot to Buffy in shock. "Huh? Angel?"

"How do you know?" Darla asked, also confused.

"I just…do," was Buffy's simple reply.

Groaning as she tried to get up from down on her knees, Jasmine's face glowed green as she managed to change her features back to human form - but she now looked sickly and weak, as boils and scars marred what would have otherwise been beautiful features. From the way she sluggishly moved, Buffy could tell that the enemy was weakened.

But there was no time to test just how weakened Jasmine really was, not with that portal finally here and about to close. With that in mind, Buffy returned to the mission at hand - getting Cordelia safely out of here.

"Darla, grab Cordy and get going. Now. I'll hold Jasmine off until you two get to safety," Buffy said as she sized up the weakened goddess.

Helping Cordelia to her feet, Darla eyed Buffy suspiciously. "But what about you? You have to get through the portal as well before it closes, or you'll be -"

"Just do as I say!" Buffy shouted furiously, she was in no mood for arguments and there was no time for them anyway.

Huffing and puffing, Jasmine staggered towards the trio, obviously weakened but still very deadly. "None of you are going anywhere!"

"Beg to differ, Oh Maggoty-er-Than-Thou One," a determined Buffy quipped as she stalked forward and landed two solid punches to Jasmine's face. The punches appeared to have more effect than before, as Jasmine was rocked backwards. Smiling grimly as well as keeping the pressure on, Buffy unleashed a spinning roundhouse kick that sent Jasmine staggering sideways.

Turning back to see Darla and Cordelia still standing there with time ticking away before they would be stuck here forever, Buffy frantically shouted, "I said get your asses through that portal, _now_! _**GO**_!"

Knowing that she had no other choice, Darla pulled a reluctant Cordelia towards the portal.

"What are you doing? Buffy needs help!" Cordelia protested angrily.

"_You think I don't know that_?" Darla retorted, just as angry. She had grown rather fond of Buffy during the three days they had spent inside this hell that was Cordelia's mind, and the thought of leaving her behind as she fought for her life did not sit well with Connor's mother.

But Darla knew the stakes, and she knew, deep down, that Buffy was right.

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.

"But you heard her. You're the key to all this, Cordelia. You have to get out of here right now, or you'll die and the rest of the world will follow. Now are you going to shut up and do what you're told, or am I going to have to knock you out and _carry_ you through that portal?" Darla demanded, as she dragged the brunette along with supernatural strength.

Angrily, Cordelia and Darla traded scowls before Cordy finally relented as she looked away. "Fine. Let's go."

Darla shook her head as she and Cordelia began to run towards the portal, the blonde woman turning back one last time to see the Slayer battling with the angry fallen Power.

"Good luck, Buffy," Darla murmured before they disappeared into the vortex.

Buffy allowed herself a moment to look over her shoulder to see Darla and Cordy fade into the blue portal…

…but that brief moment cost her, as Jasmine hit the Slayer with an uppercut that launched her into the air, the petite blonde warrior landing on her back hard and painfully.

"You _pathetic, _stupid, little girl! Do you have _any idea_ what you've done?" Jasmine screeched, her scarred face contorted in pure rage.

Grunting as slowly rose to her feet, Buffy smirked. "The usual, I'm thinking. Y'know, saved the world? Screwed up your big plan beyond repair? Left you in thundering need of a good facial? Gimme a break here, lady, it's been a long three days!"

"You think you've _won_? You have no idea what you've _lost_! What you've cost everyone!" Jasmine shouted angrily as she swung hard at the Slayer, who evaded several follow-up blows as she inched herself closer to the portal. "You have no earthly idea _why_ I even tried to do what I did! What I was trying to save you _from_!"

"Yeah, and you know what? I don't _care_!" Buffy snarled as she brought her hands together and swung upwards with all her might, cracking Jasmine in the face and sending her flying backwards onto the ground.

"Newsflash, but the end _doesn't_ justify the means! You killed and you maimed and you hurt people I care about along the way to getting what you want," Buffy said, standing tall as she looked down at the prone Jasmine. "Angel, Cordy and Wesley might have their own thing in LA now, but they were part of _my_ gang first. Part of _my_ world. So, hurting them was your biggest mistake 'cause once a Scooby, always a Scooby. You mess with one of us, you mess with _all_ of us…and when you mess with Buffy Summers, you get your ass kicked. _Hard_."

At that moment, Buffy realized the blue portal was quickly starting shrink. By her count, it would be gone within the next five seconds. She had to get out of here _right now_, unless she wanted to make it a hat trick on the number of times she's died.

And that would be of the bad, because there was no way Willow would be mystically resurrecting her _again_.

"Uh-oh, that's my cue!" Buffy said, turning one last time to Jasmine - who was struggling to get her bearings - and mockingly saluted her. "Been nice beating ya!"

Buffy turned and literally flew towards the portal leading back to the real world, which was still rapidly shrinking.

"_NO_!" Jasmine shouted, making it to her feet as she summoned one last burst of power and leapt towards the Slayer, tackling her…

…and they both tumbled into the portal together, barely two seconds before it closed.

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Main Lobby**

**The same time**

* * *

Without warning, a brilliant green light exploded out of the pregnant Cordelia's belly as an octopus-like, tentacled creature started floating in the air.

The gathered heroes stared in shock at the sight, as Angel - the only one still strong enough to effectively fight - raised his sword defensively, ready to attack and defend the wounded at all costs.

"Wait!" Wesley shouted, holding his hand up.

"For what, for that thing to eat us? Angel, kill it already!" Gunn shouted back.

"We don't know what that'll do to Cordelia!" Wesley insisted.

The brilliant rainbow spectrum around the creature suddenly began to fade away, as it suddenly shot across the room and exploded out through the upper window of the main lobby's entrance.

Oz, Kennedy, Lorne and Giles - the ones closest to the door - immediately ducked to avoid the sharp glass and falling debris from where the light had exploded out of the hotel.

Staring at the hole where the window had been, Oz cocked his head. "Well, that's something you don't see every day."

"Okay, I'm game. What the hell was that?" Robin asked, stunned.

"Oh dear Lord," Giles breathed as a worried look crossed his face. "If that was the creature, the-the Power, inside of Cordelia, then that must mean…"

"No," Angel murmured in horror, as the meaning of what Giles had said had dawned on him. The Champion immediately began striding towards the four women to check on them.

Xander understood as well. He remembered full well Skip's rant about how Cordelia would not survive giving birth to this mysterious Power, or at least not survive whole.

"Cordy!" Harris shouted as he desperately broke free of Anya's supporting grasp, and began to limp forward towards the purple triangle-shaped light binding the four women…

…just as the light suddenly dissipated, and Willow opened her eyes with a gasp. Her concentration broken, Willow fell to the floor, which she'd had the foresight to line with soft couch cushions to break her fall. She had learned her lesson after bruising her tailbone several times during similar spells over the years.

At that same moment, Cordelia, her belly now returned to its normal, toned state, gasped as she awoke with a start.

To her left, Darla's blue-grey irises fluttered open as she too inhaled a sharp, deep breath of air.

And on the far right, Buffy's blue-green eyes shot open as she gasped for air…just as Angel reached her, the first sight she saw that welcomed her back to the real world.

"Buffy," Angel asked in his gentle, concerned tone. "Are you okay?"

As she fought to catch her breath, Buffy found herself suddenly marvelling at Angel's handsome face, staring deep into those beautiful brown eyes that she had honestly doubted that she would ever see again during that mind quest.

"Angel?" Buffy asked softly, hoping desperately that this was not a dream.

Relief overcoming him, Angel pressed a soft kiss to her temple, pulling back to see her pretty face, every instinct in him wanting to crush her body into his arms and never let go. "Welcome back."

Buffy's heart flip-flopped as she saw that sexy half-smile that she had dreamt about for so many nights shower her with affection. And again, just like that - the rest of the world fell away as the two former lovers stared longingly at each other.

Cordelia's coughing caught his attention as Angel suddenly turned his attention to his Vision Girl.

"Cordy?" Angel asked, hesitantly, unsure if he was really talking to his best friend or to her evil, bitchy doppelganger.

After a beat, Cordelia, though exhausted, flashed him her famous, flawless smile with a warmth that only the real Cordelia Chase could ever produce. "Well, it ain't Jennifer Aniston, Bubba."

In a flash, Angel had given her a crushing hug, surprising Cordelia before she eagerly hugged him back…drawing green-eyed stares from both Buffy and Xander, the latter who had now gotten within the spell area.

Cordelia's eyes briefly focused on her ex-boyfriend, taking note of the raw hamburger that was the guy's face - the broken nose, the split lip, the swollen-shut right eye. The damage was so bad that Cordelia honestly didn't recognize him for a second. In fact she was just about to ask who he was, when recognition abruptly set in.

"_Xander_?" Cordelia asked in disbelief, breaking away from Angel - who was rather glad, given the expression on Buffy's face, and who was also wondering what was going to happen now between him and his Vision Girl.

"Hey, Cor," Xander smiled despite the pain that flared in his right cheek as he did so, limping closer to the Seer.

"Oh my God," Cordelia breathed as she took in the young man's tattered appearance, reaching up to gently touch his bruised and bloody face. "What the heck happened to you? You look like hell! What, did you get hit by a Mack truck or something?"

Despite the pain Xander felt near-bliss at her soft touch, savoring the feeling of the real Cordelia's hand on his face. He also savored the feeling of a mission accomplished, a quest successfully fulfilled. _This feels…good. How did I forget that this could feel so good?_

As he cast an eye down at her over-the-top black gown, Xander raised an eyebrow. "Not to throw stones in glass houses, Cor, but…have you seen what your evil twin had you wearing yet?"

At that, Cordelia looked down and was instantly horrified to see what sort of outfit she was wearing. "Oh, _crap_! Where the hell did she get this outfit, Morticia's Spring Collection?"

Xander, Angel and Buffy exchanged knowing smiles. Yup, the real Cordelia Chase was definitely back.

Xander turned to Buffy, looking concerned over one of his best friends. "You okay, Buff? We were worried about you."

The previous feelings of annoyance where Harris was concerned were instantly forgotten, as she took in his battered and busted form. Wide-eyed as she eyed her wounded friend, Buffy exclaimed, "Me? Xander, what happened to _you_? Like Cordy said, you look like you got run over by a truck - or else you picked a fight with one of those WWE guys on TV! Only, you know, for real."

"Hey, don't go dissin' the good name of professional wrestling!" Xander quipped, wincing and clutching at his ribs as he did so. "Sure, it might be mostly well-timed choreography and lots of baby oil, but the Undertaker can hit just as hard as Skip."

Buffy shook her head and chuckled. "I'll take your word for it, Xan."

Immediately the Scoobies, the Fang Gang and the others began mobbing around the four women, bombarding them with questions and fussing over each of them.

Giles gave Buffy a relieved smile as she managed to stand under her own power. "Buffy, are you…?"

"Right as raindrops," Buffy assured him with a small smile, looking over to Darla, who was being tended to by Wesley and Lindsey, each man jealously maneuvering in for closer position. With appreciation, Buffy gave her a knowing smile and a nod of appreciation - for everything her partner had done during their fantastic voyage.

Catching the Slayer's gaze after she rolled her eyes at the antics of the two men, Darla returned the nod in sincerity. At that moment, whatever grudges had existed between the two women in the past were officially buried, marking the start of a new friendship.

Cordelia felt herself gasping for air, as Fred squealed and gave her a brutally crushing hug. She'd never figured that someone as small as the brunette Texan could be so strong. "Fred! Squeezing hard…breathing…becoming…issue!"

Flushed red, Fred pulled back. "Sorry! I'm sorry, it's just…well, you know."

Cordelia smiled as she looked at Lorne, Wesley, Fred and Gunn. Doing the best to repress the horrors of the past, she said, "I know…I missed you guys too."

"Welcome back, girl," Gunn said, as he tenderly hugged his brunette friend. "Hasn't been the same without you."

"You sure you're okay, Sugar Drop?" Lorne asked Cordy with a tender smile.

Cordelia reached upwards and gave the green-skinned demon a deep hug. The Chase woman didn't directly answer the question as she replied, "It's just good to finally be _me_ again, Lorne!"

The Seer turned her eyes to Wesley, taking in his rugged, stubbly appearance. "New look?"

Wesley shrugged, with a smirk. "More or less."

Cordelia raised her eyebrows on approval, smiling at her longtime teammate. "It's a good look," she said as she pulled Wesley into a hug.

"You okay?" Oz asked Willow as he gently helped her to her feet. "That was pretty intense."

Still wobbling, Willow steadied herself as she held onto Oz's arms. "Yeah…but still! We did it! First time _ever _that someone did that spell in the Bisylline Codex successfully! Definitely one for the record books..." Willow babbled, feeling as excited and hyper as only the redhead could, bringing a smile to Oz's face.

Despite her own injuries, Kennedy, seething with jealousy at the close proximity that Oz and Willow were sharing, quickly cut in and shoved the werewolf aside as she checked on her girlfriend.

"Willow, baby, are you okay?" Kennedy asked as she checked the witch for injuries, making sure her body was positioned as to block Oz from view.

While annoyed at being crassly shoved away from Willow, Oz said nothing and kept a close eye on the redhead, who was waving off Kennedy's concern as she turned her head to glance at Oz.

Looking around the damaged hotel, Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Okay, humor me. What'd you guys do, hold a monster truck rally while Willow, Darla and I were under?"

"We had a little…unexpected turbulence," Wesley said as he grimly eyed Skip's corpse.

As her eyes slid across from the metallic corpse of the dead mercenary to the discarded severed insectoid head of the Keeper of the Name, Buffy eyed Angel curiously. "Do I even want to know?" the blonde Slayer asked.

Angel shook his head. "Not right now…I'll fill you in later."

At that moment, the Hyperion's front doors swung open as Spike, Faith, Dawn, Connor and several people the blonde Slayer had never seen before came into the hotel, armed and dangerous.

"Cavalry's 'ere," Spike announced glibly, before he took a long look around at the ruins of the lobby, and a now awakened Buffy, Darla, Cordelia and Willow. "And apparently, a little late."

Golden's eyes widened at the sight of Lorne, him and the other youths holding up their spears. "What the hell is that ugly-ass beastie doing here?" Golden gruffly demanded.

"Ugly-ass? Hey!" an indignant and offended Lorne exclaimed.

Seeing the street youths pointing their weapons at his teammate, Gunn grabbed a nearby battle axe and protectively stepped right in front of Lorne. "I don't know who the hell you punks are, but you better point your little sticks away from my boy right the hell now - unless you want me to stick 'em where the sun don't shine! You read me?"

"Punks?" Golden angrily exclaimed.

"Hey!" Kate shouted, looking angry. "What did I say before in the sewers? All of you, stand down. Now! This isn't enemy territory."

"Gunn," Angel called out. "It's okay. They're with me."

Hesitantly lowering his weapon as the youths did the same, Gunn eyed Angel warily. "You really ought to screen people first before you let 'em up in our crib, man."

"Hey, wait a - Gunn?" Golden asked, as recognition suddenly dawned on him. "Charles Gunn?"

"Did I say you could use my name?" Gunn snapped brusquely.

"Did I say you could use my ride without paying the piper?" Golden replied with a smirk on his face.

"What? Paying the…" Gunn's confused frown melted away, as the memory of catching a snot-nosed little punk twelve-year old kid attempting to hotwire his beloved vampire-killing truck five years ago on Venice Boulevard flickered to life in his brain. "God-_damn_! Tommy Golden's little brother? Randall?"

Off the youth's smile, Gunn walked over and affectionately patted him on the shoulder, the previous animosity between them instantly forgotten. "Little-ass Randall Golden, man, you tried to jack my ride. Damn, kid, you grew up! Last time I saw you, you weren't even old enough to shave!"

"So what the hell _you_ doing here, dog? I heard on the street how you broke off from your old crew a while back," Randall asked in curiosity.

"I work with these guys nowadays," Gunn motioned to the Angel Investigations crew. "We're paranormal detectives. Like Ghostbusters, only we kick more ass. But enough about that, man! How's Tommy? I haven't seen that boy in forever, I've missed his ass! How's he doing?"

Upon hearing that Kate, Randall, Holly, Matthew and the others sadly looked away. Gunn's grin faded into a look of shock and sadness. He knew that look they were giving him all too well.

"Oh, God," Gunn breathed, horrified. "Randall, man, I'm sorry."

Off the look on her ex-boyfriend's face, Fred instinctively went to his side. "Charles?" she asked imploringly.

"Tommy…he used to soldier in my crew back in the day," Gunn explained, though still in shock. "He went off and built up his own operation, 'bout a year before I ran into Angel."

"Oh…so he was a good friend of yours?" Fred asked sadly.

Gunn nodded as a morose feeling swept over him. "Yeah…yeah, that he was."

Randall put his hand on Gunn's shoulder, sympathetically. "You were his hero, man. He always used to tell me that whenever he was in a tight spot, he would think to himself, 'What would Gunn do?' He never stopped looking up to you. Just thought you wanted to know."

Gunn felt a lump begin to form in the back of his throat as Randall embraced him in a comforting hug. _I never got another chance to say goodbye_, Charles realized as the moment turned bittersweet for him. He'd regained one friend in Cordelia…only to find out that he'd lost another.

As Fred wrapped her arms around his back, offering him comfort, Angel and Buffy exchanged sad glances. They knew that a big part of this life was the inevitable deaths of friends and allies.

The Grim Reaper reached for them all, and not everyone could escape its grasp.

"If it's any comfort," Angel said to Gunn. "We killed the thing that killed your friend down in the sewers. It won't hurt anyone else ever again."

After a beat, Gunn turned his eyes to Angel. "Did you make it hurt 'fore ya killed it?"

Angel nodded. "Yup."

"Good," Gunn replied grimly.

"Hey, Spike? How come you showed up so late for the party? Did you make a late night run for more glow-in-the-dark hair care products?" Xander asked not far away as Anya took her place at his side again, frowning at her ex.

Eyeing the badly beaten Harris male, Spike raised an eyebrow. "So what happened to you, Droopy Boy? Did ya pick a fight with Ken Shamrock?"

"Who's that? You'll have to pardon me if I don't have clue-one who the hell you're talking about, Billy Idol generation," Xander said innocently, causing Spike to silently growl at him.

Deciding to ignore the annoying git - as well as Robin's habitual dark scowl upon seeing him - Spike, along with Faith and the others, approached the crowded circle, William's eyes resting squarely on Buffy.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, luv," Spike smiled sincerely.

Buffy gave him a grateful nod. "Hopefully, I'll never leave it again."

"So…is Cordelia all 'not evil' now?" Faith asked as she eyed her fellow brunette warily.

At the sight of Faith and Spike, Cordelia - whose memories were still rather hazy at the moment - stiffened.

"Someone mind telling me what the hell Psycho Slayer and Mr. Blonde Evil Ambition are doing here, and why no one is currently kicking their asses?" Cordelia demanded.

"Huh, guess the cheerleader chit's still as mouthy as ever," Spike muttered to Faith, to which Faith couldn't help but to smile at.

"It's okay, Cordy. They're on our side now," Buffy assured her. Off Cordelia's unconvinced and wary glance, Buffy sighed. "No, really, they are."

"Geez, a girl goes on one little trip to the dark side and she never gets to live it down, huh?" Faith chuckled, to which Cordelia and Buffy gave her a glare.

"Are you alright, Buffy?" a concerned Dawn asked her sister as Connor went to check on his mother, who immediately gathered him into a deep hug.

"I'm fine," Buffy sighed, frowning as she remembered exactly what Dawn had been doing while she was off in Dreamland. "And by the way, missy, when I wake up in the morning? We're going to have a nice, long talk about what the definition of grounding is. As well as the meaning of extra-grounded, which you definitely are now, as of right this second."

"Oh, come on!" Dawn shouted angrily, startling her big sister. "Are we back to all that again? Because I've helped out _sooo_ much ever since we left Sunnydale! Buffy, I get that you don't want me to die or get hurt, I really do. But I don't need to be molly-coddled! I helped Connor capture Evil Cordelia, I helped Faith and Spike save Connor's life - I even tricked that weird insect-demon thing in order for us to get the name of the big nasty hijacking Cordy's body!"

Ignoring Buffy's gaping look, the Key turned her pleading blue eyes to her sister's ex-boyfriend. "Angel, tell her!"

The ensouled vampire shrugged. "Well…yeah, gotta admit. Dawn has been pretty helpful lately."

Off Buffy's malevolent glare, Angel quickly added, "But that still doesn't change the fact that you should have asked for permission before you left the hotel with Faith and Spike, Dawn."

"Oh, sure, and as if you or Buffy would have said 'yes' to that!" Dawn spat out indignantly. "This is getting ridiculous! I mean, Buffy used to patrol for vampires late at night all the time when she was my age!"

"It was my job, and _I_ had the advantage of superpowers," Buffy reminded her sternly. "Which is more than I can say for you."

At that, Dawn, Connor and Angel flashed back to the mysterious green light show that erupted from the former Key's eyes and mouth down in the sewers. As Angel questioningly eyed the youngest Summers, looking as if he wanted to say something, Dawn subtly shook her head - whatever it was that had happened in that demon's lair was something that she would have to figure out on her own, later.

"Dawn?" Cordelia asked, as she took in the sight of the Slayer's not-so-little-anymore sister.

Dawn eyed Cordelia curiously, her little temper tantrum now over. "Cordy? Is that…really you? Not the evil, crazy, homicidal, bitchy you?"

"It's really me, Dawnie. I swear," the Seer assured the girl she used to babysit during the summer of her junior year of high school. "By the way…when'd you get so tall?"

At that, Dawn's face lit up as she pulled Cordelia into yet another hug that the gorgeous brunette seer had been given tonight, Cordelia laughing as she returned the hug.

However, as she opened her eyes, she saw Connor's face…his expression of guilt as he awkwardly looked away, separating himself from Darla. Cordelia's smile instantly vanished, as the memory of their night of passion together suddenly came to the fore of her mind.

_Holy friggin' crap. _Ever since waking up, the young woman had been trying her best to repress what had happened ever since returning from the Higher Planes; but now Cordelia had a bad feeling that the consequences over everything that had transpired over the last few months, was going to be bad. Really bad.

Nearly-suicidal, guilt-trippin' bad.

"So…does this mean it's all over?" Fred asked hesitantly.

"Well, I'm not all possessed or carrying Rosemary's baby anymore - so, I guess things are _kinda _back to normal," Cordelia replied, banishing the bad thoughts as she gratefully ran her hands down her flat stomach.

"Not…exactly," Buffy countered, thinking back to the weakened Jasmine's last-ditch effort to grab her back in Cordelia's mindscape, and falling through the portal with her.

Upon hearing that Darla stood up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"When I was fighting that thing, the bad guy Power - it called itself Jasmine, by the way - I think it might have followed me through that portal out of Cordy's brain," Buffy said somewhat nervously, looking at everyone around her.

"What?" Angel, now on full alert, turned to the Slayer. "Are you sure?"

"Um, pretty much - so, did anything out of the ordinary happen when the mojo wore off and we all woke up?" Buffy asked.

"Huge green light show, weird octopus-like thing went all floaty for a few seconds, then it went burstin' out that window," Xander reported as he pointed to the broken window in question.

"And you think it was that…Jasmine thing?" Angel asked.

As the others, all of them concerned and worried, turned to Buffy for answers, Buffy swallowed. "Not only do I think that…but unless I'm mistaken, and I really, really hope I am…I think it's out there. On the loose. Right now."

Turning to a grim-faced Angel, Buffy sighed. "Which means we still have work to do, here in LA."

* * *

**Los Angeles - an alley, ten miles from the Hyperion Hotel**

**Now**

* * *

Several homeless men had gathered around a fire within an empty oil barrel, trying to cook several packages of chicken they had stolen from a local supermarket earlier in the evening. It wasn't going to be the tastiest of meals, nor was it the most ethical of behavior, but it would keep them alive for another night; and human beings can justify a lot to themselves in the name of personal survival.

Just as the meat had begun to become edible, one of the men looked up and saw what appeared to be a naked female form slowly approaching them in the alleyway.

"Hey, Gus," the man nudged the closest one next to him. "Check it out."

As the one called Gus looked up to see the attractive female silhouette approach them, he hungrily licked his lips.

"Sweet," the homeless man laughed along with the others as he approached the woman, who was heading towards the flames, the shadows hiding her face.

"Hey there, beautiful," Gus leered. "You hungry? We've got some cheap prime choice chicken here, if you want to get your stomach filled up. Of course, if you're short on cash, we could always settle for payment in kind…if you get my drift."

"Give me your clothes," the shadowy woman demanded in a cold voice.

Gus's eyes lit up. "Hey, boys, you hear that? She wants me to take my clothes off!"

The others laughed and wolf-whistled towards the mysterious figure. Encouraged, and somewhat drunk, Gus sauntered closer to the woman in the darkness. "Well, if you show me yours first, honey, maybe I'll show you mi-ACK!"

An arm as strong as iron shot out and a hand gripped his throat, causing Gus to gag and choke. His eyes bulged out in fear as the black woman stepped out of the shadows…revealing a scar-faced, milky-eyed and very naked Jasmine, scowling at the lowly human in her grasp.

"_**Now**_!" Jasmine thundered.

As they spotted the ugly female figure choking the life out of Gus, one of the men instinctively charged Jasmine with a broken beer bottle. The rogue Power, dropping Gus to the ground, merely broke the man's arm with one hand, then sent him flying head-first into the wall of the alley, his neck breaking loudly as he fell to the ground - dead.

Two others began attacking her, but Jasmine dispatched one of them (who'd tried to punch her) easily when she simply grabbed him by the throat and twisted hard with one hand, breaking his neck, and then stepped over the corpse with regal disdain.

Panicked, the other man pulled out a small cheap revolver, firing several shots that struck Jasmine in the face and chest. But the bullets were simply crushed on impact, bouncing off Jasmine's still-powerful body as harmlessly as marshmallows.

"More of your toys," Jasmine sneered as she moved in a blur of speed towards the stunned man, plunging her fist through his stomach…

"Pathetic," Jasmine spat.

…and ripping his spine out from inside him, blood and viscera spilling out everywhere as the man dropped dead onto the ground.

Turning to a cowering Gus, Jasmine stalked towards him, her face full of anger.

Immediately, Gus began to pull off his shirt. "O-o-okay, okay, lady, uh, miss, um. Ma'am! Here's my clothes, take 'em, all of them!" As he stripped off his pants, leaving him clad only in his underwear, he reached into his stained jeans and tossed his frayed wallet over to Jasmine, which landed right in front of her. "And here's my money, too, that's all I've got! Please, just please don't kill me!"

"Why should I let you live? It's because of the scum like you that this world needs saving," Jasmine growled as she inched closer to the terrified man. "I've lost almost everything, thanks to that damned Slayer and her undead lover. But maybe I can still make this world a better place…one body at a time."

And then Jasmine began to pummel the screaming, teary-eyed, begging homeless man. She pounded on his skull, ignoring his pleas for mercy. She hit him again and again, letting loose the rage and hatred that had filled her broken heart. Jasmine battered her victim, raining down fist after fist with increasing force, with growing rage and despair and bewilderment, screaming with every blow she dealt…

…until all that was left of Gus's skull was a bloody smear on the ground.

And yet Jasmine _still_ kept pounding the ground, her blows becoming weaker and more ineffectual until she collapsed on Gus's naked, headless and blood-matted torso, wailing and sobbing brokenly, her hands covered in the dead man's sticky, dark red blood.

Jasmine had not lied to Gus - she had indeed lost almost everything. The unleashing of her true name by Angel had robbed her of the ability to control the humans of this world merely by her presence. By her…love.

The rogue Power also knew that she could not return to the Higher Planes - even if Buffy had been lying about the Beastmaster, the other Powers would never let her go back home now, not after what she'd done to get herself born into this world.

_Almost_ born. Whatever.

Even her worshippers in Demon-Bug World were gone now; she could sense how Angel had killed the pitifully few remaining ones during his sojourn there.

All of Jasmine's plans had been laid to waste, because of that damned vampire and his Slayer.

She had wanted it all…and now, she had lost almost everything. She had just enough strength and ability left to kill every human being on this planet, and that was it.

For the first time in her eternally long existence, the fallen Power calling herself Jasmine was completely and utterly alone.

From the shadows, unbeknownst to her, the First Evil - now wearing the physical form of Buffy Summers - watched…and smiled.

"Perfect," it grinned darkly, the First knowing its plans were still moving along nicely.

* * *

To Be Continued...

* * *

Next: Now awake and more-or-less back to normal, Cordelia begins coming to terms with the memories of her actions whilst under the control of the Beastmaster and Jasmine. Will she be able to cope with seeing all that blood of the innocents on her hands, even if she wasn't in the driver's seat? Maybe, with the help of a damaged and bed-ridden ex-boyfriend…

As Dawn tries to understand her new-found powers, Darla helps to unravel the secrets of her past…and the Key to her future.

Buffy, Angel and Cordelia hunt for the still-on-the-loose Jasmine. But they will be completely unprepared for the bombshell that Jasmine reveals to them, explaining her actions…and her true connection to the First Evil.

Speaking of the First…the ultimate Evil's pawns are now finally in position. And when they strike, will the Scoobies nor the Fang Gang be prepared for the carnage that will inevitably follow?

* * *

Well, that's all for now, my peeps! Tune in next month for more…same place, same name. Only on FF dot Net!

Later!

Jean-theGuardian


	24. Part 22 Scratch the Surface

A/N: Wazzaaaaaap! Lol! Okay, and now that this '90s moment has passed, may I just say that it's good to be back! Special shout-out to Starway Man, greatest beta in the Eastern Hemisphere for all his contributions while juggling stacks of papers simultaneously; Theo, you rock! And a big thanks to everyone who reviewed, including: Dark Vizard447, ashes at midnight (love your stories!) Lilly Emerald, teamtiva, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, SwalLoWiNg DaNtE, Angellufy, Wolfram-and-Hart-Sauron, crazymel2008, Geoff, wingster55, David Fishwick, and Megagalvatron12. ( _Bows down…_I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!) : )

Well, sorry about missing the September deadline. Been busy with life stuff. But I'm going to shoot for having the latest chapter up by Halloween Night. (Fitting, don't you think?) Remember, feedback is candy for the soul, and I am also available via instant message for any comments and suggestions. I get back to people really fast, usually. Well, get your popcorn ready, folks, take a breather, grab a soda pop and enjoy the newest chapter of…

* * *

**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 22 - Scratch the Surface**

* * *

**Los Angeles - The Hyperion Hotel**

**Approximately 4:30 a.m.**

* * *

_Cordelia Chase dreamt of fire._

_A pillar of fire rising into the sky, built from the blood of murdered innocents on an LA skyscraper._

_Around it, her bruised and__ battered friends - Lorne, Wesley and Gunn - desperately limped up to their feet, their attempts to stop the arrival of Armageddon having failed miserably._

_Far below it, in a sewer, lay Angel, bleeding profusely, a knife lodged in his throat, choking him with his own blood. A fallen Champion._

_Within it, the evil smile of the Beast, grinning with satisfaction at the morbid results of his murderous __labors__._

_And moments later, above it…the Rain of Fire. A hail of flaming death falling from the skies, onto roofs, through cars with people, onto sidewalks with pedestrians. Debris and fireballs falling everywhere, the screams of people running for cover, the terrified pleas for help for those trapped underneath rubble._

_She dreamt of Connor…panting and groaning as their bodies melded together in a carnal embrace that turned her stomach and made her want to vomit. She wanted to stop it, wanted to throw the boy off of her, not wanting any part of this semi-incestuous act - Angel's son grunting as he thrust inside her, the same boy whose diapers she'd changed less than a year ago. But she could not. It was as if her own body had completely shut her out. The lights were on, and she was home…but she might as well have been stuck in the panic room, because she wasn't able to do anything, except feel…__**everything**__._

_She dreamt of Lilah…limping frantically down the hallways of the hotel to escape a bloodthirsty Angelus. The look of confusion on her face as Cordelia's own hand pinned her by the throat against the wall, the gasp of surprise and shock as the Seer's free hand plunged the bone knife created from the Beast's body deep into the lawyer's throat. Deep inside, Cordelia railed and screamed, trying to stop herself from committing the homicidal act, but could not. She had become a witness to her own act of murder, and all she could do was watch as Lilah's lifeless body tumbled to the ground. _

_At last, she managed to gain control of her body, dropping the blood-coated knife in horror, her hands warm and sticky with the blood from Lilah's jugular. Trembling, Cordelia tried to desperately wipe it away on her clothes, on the walls, on anything around her - only for the blood to slowly crawl back onto her hands, becoming even redder and stickier than before._

_She looked up, and suddenly found herself staring into the cold, accusing eyes of Wesley. In his right hand, he held a bloody, crumbled dollar, one with a red-inked heart around the signed names of Lilah and Wesley._

_A sob beginning to choke her, Cordelia turned pleading eyes to her old friend, her teammate. "Wesley… I didn't…it wasn't me! I couldn't stop it, I swear, I would __**never**__…please, you have to believe me! __**It wasn't me**__!"_

_Wesley's stare was neither forgiving nor understanding as he continued to squeeze the dollar, until the blood poured from his hand in a sickening stream of crimson. _

"_Impossible to wash off, isn't it?" a familiar female voice taunted her._

_In horror, Cordelia looked down and saw Lilah's face, still turned sideways with that lifeless death stare. Then, a slow, knowing grin spread slowly on her face like spilled oil. "I should know."_

_And then the dead woman's pale face turned and leered up at her. "Speaking as one murderer to another."_

Cordelia awoke with a scream as she bolted upright in her bed, wide-eyed and drenched in a cold sweat.

By now, she had changed into a pear of loose-fitting grey slacks and a tight forest-green tank top to sleep in. She had taken the hideous black gown her doppelganger had worn and promptly thrown it into the incinerator after she had gotten her bearings back, not wanting to see the gown for another minute longer as it served to remind her of what her body had done while possessed.

Clutching the covers close to her, Cordy's eyes darted around her darkened, empty room. Realizing that she was alone and that the nightmare was over, the Vision Girl took in deep gasps of breath, trying desperately to calm herself down.

The more that the horrifying images that she saw in her dreams flickered through her brain, the more Cordy regretted letting Angel convince her to sleep after the others had gone to bed. It had been a long day and night for everyone, and so they had all happily agreed to shuffle off to sleep after the trials and tribulations of the last 24 hours.

Cordelia had had her doubts, however; while her physical body had been awake for about the same amount of time, her mind felt as if she had been asleep for months. But not wanting to worry anyone, Cordelia had agreed to give sleep a shot.

It was a decision she had immediately regretted. It was one thing to suppress the horrifying memories of the last eight months when her body was commandeered by Jasmine and the Beastmaster while conscious. But there was no hiding from them in her sleep. Her subconscious wouldn't allow her to forget her...crimes.

Before she went to bed, Cordelia had asked Angel and Buffy to tell her the truth. Everything that had happened. And the two supernatural warriors had held nothing back when they'd told the Seer everything.

Skip's deception, Jasmine's plan, how Cordelia had been the central pawn in a grand scheme to destroy the world. And though they'd hurriedly assured Cordelia that none of it was her fault, deep in her heart, the brunette beauty felt much differently.

_The world nearly ended…and it was all because of me. It was all my fault_, Cordelia thought miserably, as her vision began to blur thanks to tears welling up in her eyes.

The traumatized young woman slid to the floor of her bedroom, pulling her knees under her chin as she curled into a ball and began to softly cry, the tears spilling with increasing frequency as Cordelia's sobs became all the harder despite her trying to keep quiet, for fear of waking the others.

Thousands of people were dead in the aftermath of Jasmine's big plan, and Cordelia could not stop blaming herself for her perceived part in it. In her mind, none of this would have happened if she had simply rebuffed that bastard Skip's offer on her birthday, or if she had been smart enough to ask more questions before she'd allowed herself to be infused with that alleged part-demon essence. Before she'd allowed herself to be taken to the Higher Planes.

But instead, she'd played the bimbo patsy to Jasmine's plans for world conquest, and now thousands of innocents had paid the ultimate price for that. She breathed a silent prayer for the departed souls of those who died in the last few weeks through her body's actions.

_I'm sorry. So sorry. Please forgive me. It was my fault…it's all my fault..._

Her friends…her family. Angel. Wesley. Lorne. Fred. Gunn. Connor. They were all she had, and she loved them all with her whole heart and soul…and she had betrayed them all, manipulated them, turned them against each other, and nearly gotten them all killed.

Connor…her heart broke at the thought of that poor boy, how the creatures inside her had warped his fragile mind, seduced him, nearly tainted his soul with darkness and death as they tainted hers. She had seen in the Higher Planes how hard Angel had worked to bridge the gap between him and his estranged son…and now that gap had only increased because of her seduction of the boy, and her manipulation of his father.

Angel…he was her hero. Her Champion. Stretching back to ancient times, Cordelia had learned during her summer sojourn Up There about the deep connection between Champions and their Seers. It was no different with them, as the vampire and the Vision Girl were bound by a deep, unbreakable bond that others might define as love, but only Angel and Cordelia could ever truly understand. He had helped turn a hopeless, broke wannabe-actress with only a high school diploma to her name into a hero in her own right.

Angel meant the world to her…and how had she repaid him? By playing with his mind, sleeping with his son, stealing his soul, terrorizing his city, and making his life a living hell.

Wesley…they had shared everything since high school, from a dance at her Senior Prom to that awkward kiss on Graduation Day, crusty donuts and stale coffee in the late night hours pouring over criminal records, police databases and ancient texts and many tequila shots at Caritas during Happy Hour as they fought alongside their ever-broody boss to save the world. She loved him like an older, nerdier brother…and how had she honored their friendship?

By killing his girlfriend. In cold blood.

Granted, Cordelia had never thought highly of Lilah, and she truly wished that Wesley had chosen a more…non-evil-bitch of a woman as his significant other. But even when the unscrupulous attorney had hired that demon to hack into her brain and hammer her with successive painful visions, Cordelia never would have killed her, as much as she would have very much liked to at the time.

But her desires changed nothing. Lilah Morgan was dead now, her remains decapitated, something Wesley had to do with his own two hands…and it all came down to being her fault.

Buffy, Willow…Xander. Only in retrospect did Cordelia realize how blessed she'd been back in high school to have such brave and unique people call her a friend, let her into their amazing and dangerous and exciting world, despite all the mean things she'd said to them and about them. And how had she shown her gratitude?

By trying to kill Willow when she had attempted to restore Angel's soul weeks ago.

By trying to kill Buffy's adorable little sister, and then Buffy herself during the soul spell that saved Cordelia's own life.

By cruelly mocking Xander…brave, stupid, loyal-to-the-end Xander…while possessed.

To add to the guilt, Angel and Buffy had relayed to her how the injuries Harris had sustained that left him a bleeding, bruised and bed-ridden mess had come about by his attempts to save her from a murderous Skip only moments before she woke up. Even after everything she'd said, after how they'd ended their short, but passionate relationship…Cordelia was astounded how that guy was still willing to die for her.

_He almost died…because of me. He's lying in that bed right now, broken and hurting and bleeding. And it's all my fault. I'm the reason he's hurting so much._

A loud sob escaped her throat at the thought, as Cordelia's face fell into her hands. How could she ever look at him again? After all of this, how could she look any of the others in the eye ever again? What if they never truly forgave her? What if they looked at her the way that she and the other Scoobies had looked at Angel when he came back from Hell years ago, after all the torment and death that his psychopathic soulless alter-ego had bestowed upon them?

God help her, but Cordelia wanted to die. She wanted the earth to open up underneath her and swallow her down, never to be seen again. She wanted to disappear into nothingness, like she'd never existed. She wanted the heavens to part and a bolt of lightning to pass judgment upon her, strike her dead on the spot.

It was what Cordelia felt she deserved after everything that had happened.

Words of blame ran in a cruel mantra over and over in her mind. _It's all my fault…all my fault…all my fault…all my fault…all my fault…all my fault…all my fault…all my-_

"Cordy?" a male voice broke through the darkness, as her light flickered on…revealing a bruised, hunched-over Xander.

At the sight of him, Cordelia's hazel eyes widened as she quickly wiped away at her tears, which was making her mascara run. "Xander? W-what are you doing here?"

For a moment, the injured young man looked unsure as he shuffled nervously in the doorway. "I, uh…was headed to the kitchen downstairs. Wanted some water."

Cordelia eyed him suspiciously. "There was at least six bottles of water that Giles and that Anya girl left near your bedside," she said in a strangled voice.

_Well, that didn't work_. Xander grimaced as he nervously scratched his head. Deciding that it was useless to lie to her, he said, "Okay, fine. I heard a scream…woke up, decided to do a little poking around. Make sure everything was okay."

Cordelia flushed with guilt as she realized she'd woken Harris up. He, more than anyone, needed his sleep to recover from the injuries he was dealt.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Cordy said in a small voice, taking in the bruised and battered form of her ex-boyfriend. _Bruises he got because of me, _she realized with guilt.

It was too much to take as she began sobbing again, her forehead falling down on her knees as she curled into a miserable, heartbroken ball. "_I'm s-s-so_ _sorryyyy_…" Cordelia choked as the river of tears began spilling from her eyes.

Xander's face fell as he saw his ex-girlfriend weeping uncontrollably. And he felt his heart move…almost break…at the sight. Limping with care, he slowly moved towards the crestfallen young woman until he managed to sit alongside her at the foot of the bed.

"Cor? Hey, hey, _shhhh_, Cordy, it's okay. It's okay," Xander assured her as he slid his good arm around her shoulders, rocking her gently. "What's wrong? Tell me."

"_I_ _can't_!" Cordy cried as she shook her head. "I can't…"

"C'mon, Cordelia," Xander said coaxingly, with a gentle timber in his voice. "It's me, Xander Harris. The same guy you used to chase around the monkey bars and try to plant a wet one on during kindergarten. The same guy you constantly harassed and ridiculed all the way through elementary school, junior high and high school. The same guy who saw you off on that bus to LA." His voice became even softer. "You can tell me anything."

Her bottom lip quivering, Cordelia brought herself to look at the bruised and mashed face of the young man she had once dubbed 'the Zeppo'. At the time, she had coined the phrase as an insult, mocking the fact that her then-recent ex was the only member of a gang - which included a Slayer, a witch, a Watcher, a vampire and a werewolf - with no powers or special skills, essentially making him useless.

_Well. The shoe's definitely on the other foot now, isn't it? _Cordy thought, brokenly. _He's helped to stop at least seven apocalypses…and me, with all my visions and new fighting skills? I helped bring one about._

"Cordy?" Xander's voice softly asked, imploringly. "Talk to me."

Taking in a deep breath, Cordelia softly uttered through the tears, "It's all my fault."

Xander frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about? What's all your fault?"

Another sob escaped her lips as Cordelia looked down to the floor with haunted hazel eyes. "_Everything_," she said in a broken whisper.

It took a moment to register in Xander's brain before his eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh, no, Cordy, no, don't think that," Xander said in a reassuring rush. "That wasn't you. You were possessed! You gotta know that, right?"

"Tell that to the families of the twelve thousand-odd people that are dead right now, because of what my body did," Cordelia wept bitterly. "Tell that to Lilah…when the last thing she saw as she bled to death in that hallway…" she pointed to the outside. "…was my face. That was the last thing that Manny guy saw, too…and that family of priestesses. The mom, the dad…that poor little boy…"

Cordelia stared off into a distant memory only she could see, her expression empty and bleak. "The last image they took with them to the grave…was my face."

"Cordy, please," Xander said, gently. "You had no control over what some crazy Power and the Bitchmaster did. You would _never_ have done those things of your own free will, and we _know_ that. _I_ know that."

"_Stop it_!" Cordelia hissed at him, her tear-streaked face contorted in anger. "Stop trying to make me feel better, stop trying to absolve me from the blame. Just…please, stop it!"

"Not until you stop blaming yourself for something you couldn't have prevented," Xander said, holding his ground. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was!" Cordelia snapped, angrily wiping away the tears. "Don't you get it? Sure I didn't do all those things of my own free will. But I should have known better than to accept those powers from Skip in the first place! Didn't they teach us in grade school not to take candy from strangers? The same principle applies for taking cosmic gifts from mercenary demons secretly working for the Big Bad! I should have known something was up, I shouldn't have let Skip trick me into letting him rewrite my DNA to be a part-whatever so I could hold onto the visions."

Cordelia shook her head, as a fresh round of tears streamed down her face. "But I just _had_ to do it, I just _had_ to prove it to everyone - Skip, Angel, even myself - that I belonged here. That I was more than just a failed actress whose glory years were spending her dad's money in high school. That I could be someone that counted. That I could be…a hero."

The Chase woman laughed, a bitter and ugly noise. "Some hero I turned out to be!"

Though it pained him to do so, Xander reached across and grabbed her shoulders, forcing Cordelia to look at him. It hurt him to see this woman, who always had such a blazing fire within her, such a strong, indomitable spirit, sitting alongside him looking so sad, so broken, so…lost.

And Xander Harris would not allow that flame to be extinguished within her, out of fear that if he did, Cordelia Chase would soon wither and die.

"Hey. Look at me," Xander said as the brunette woman's tear-glazed eyes met his one good eye and the still-swollen right one. "You _are_ a hero, Cordelia. Willow told me about what you did when you were up in the…astro wherever-it-was. You were willing to become a blank slate for the rest of your life to keep Jasmine from taking over. You were willing to forget everything and everyone you ever loved to keep the world safe. In my book, there's not a whole lot of people who woulda been willing to do that."

"But I failed!" Cordelia protested, still crying. "I let Angel and Lorne do that damned spell when I was Amnesia Girl…and all those people paid the price afterwards. And my friends, everything I did to them…oh God, Xander, how can they ever forgive me?"

"Like this," Xander said, as he pulled the heartbroken young woman into a hug with his one good arm, his nose peppered with her lavender scent as her hair brushed so close to his face. "Cordy…we love you. All of us. Apart from the Potentials upstairs who have no idea who you are, there's not a single person in this hotel that wouldn't lay down their life for you if we were asked. We know that whatever it was that was going around looking like you, talking like you, walking like you…it wasn't you. End of story."

Cordelia scoffed, though she still looked inconsolable. "Yeah, sure. It's really that simple? Just like what happened with Angel back in high school, right?"

Xander's eyes darkened for a moment, recalling the horror that was his junior year. "That was…different."

"Why?" Cordelia demanded, sniffling. "C'mon, Xander, think about it! His soul wasn't in the driver's seat when Angelus killed Ms. Calendar, or tortured Giles, or put Buffy in the hospital and sent all those vamps after us in the library or tried to send the world to Hell. And yet how did we treat him when he came back, I ask you? How did we look at him? Like he was this evil monster!" She shook with fear as more tears rolled down her face. "Why shouldn't I get the same treatment? Why _wouldn't _I?"

"Well, for starters, you didn't spend a hundred years before that viciously slaughtering people, like Deadboy did," Xander shrugged. "And when this…happened to you, you weren't -"

"Getting pelvic with the girl you had a huge crush on?" Cordelia offered weakly.

Xander frowned distastefully. "I was going to say that, in your case, you at least were trying to stop the end of the world." He gently reached up and cupped her delicate cheekbones, slowly wiping the tear tracks of her left cheek away with his right thumb. "You tried, Cordy. That's all any of us can do. It might not always work out, but at least you can say that you tried."

Cordelia shut her eyes as more tears came, taking solace in the strong, firm hands that had offered her comfort and love on many nights back in high school. She slowly opened her eyes as she took in the sight of the injured, yet caring young man that was willing to take a steel-plated fist to the chest for her.

Seeing his broken and battered face made Cordelia want to cry yet again, but she managed to hold it together. "I, uh…I heard Skip gave you a pretty bad working over?"

Xander tried to laugh it off, only to find that it still hurt his ribs to laugh. Stifling the urge to groan, Harris forced a pained smile onto his face. "Ah, that guy was basically all talk. Typical supervillain, loved the sound of his own voice too much - I had him on the ropes." He paused. "Actually, it's a good thing there weren't any ropes around, or he might have used them to strangle me."

Cordelia shook her head. "Why?"

"Well, y'know, ropes are pretty handy for that sort of thing -"

"No, you dummy!" Cordelia sighed, staring at him poignantly. "I meant…why'd you do it? Skip was bad news. He went toe-to-toe with Angel and nearly put him in an ashtray, and he nearly killed the others. But you went and forced him to make you his punching bag? Even when you knew you didn't have a prayer of winning? I just, I mean…why?"

Xander stared back at her incredulously, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "He was gonna kill you, Cor. You and then the others - he not only said so, it was written all over his face. What else was I supposed to do?"

Harris flashed back to the merc's sinister smile as he hovered above Cordelia's sleeping form. "When I saw him there, standing over you, with that look in his eye that he was going to do something bad…something in me just…well, I just…"

Xander was trying to give words to that emotion, that desperation that drove him to ignore a concussion, a broken nose, an injured arm, a swollen eye and blood loss and crawl over the floor to put his own body between his ex-girlfriend and a metallic demon juggernaut.

Seeing the pause, the uncertainty on the young man's face, whose eyes looked down for a moment, Cordelia hung on his every word.

"You just what?" she asked softly, urging him to continue.

Swallowing hard, Xander returned his gaze to Cordelia. "I just knew…that I couldn't let him hurt you. I didn't even think about it, I just…I just knew I'd die before I let that happen." His earnest eyes shone with sincerity, and with an emotion that Cordelia thought she recognized, but she hadn't seen in far too long.

Harris let out a heavy sigh, seven years' worth as a matter of fact. "God knows I almost did."

It was then that Xander noticed a strange look in Cordelia's eyes that he hadn't seen in what felt like forever. It was a serious look, but it wasn't sad. It wasn't pensive, either. Yet there was something powerful, something indescribable in the way her glistening eyes beheld him. Something that made part of him leap in joy and quiver in fear at the same time.

He didn't remember later who moved first, him or her. But it didn't matter, as her soft velvety lips slowly, tentatively met his still-cut mouth. And his skin was suddenly tingling with a long-dormant, but still-familiar electric spark that used to make every part of him come alive whenever they were together.

It was soft at first, a tender kiss, affectionate but chaste enough. Yet with each passing instant, that brief spark began to burn and flicker into a growing current between them as Xander's tongue gently found its way into her mouth, drawing a small moan from Cordelia's throat. Instinctively, he pulled her in closer with his sole good arm, and she reached up and slowly snaked her arms around his head.

Cordelia wasn't thinking - she had no idea what was happening, no idea what was going on inside her. But in the midst of her despair, her suffering, here was the doofus she'd known all her life; the dumbass who was willing to go toe-to-toe with a killer demon for her, the dorkhead who was whispering words of comfort, holding her and stroking her hair tenderly.

The battered White Knight that had come to save her from her own suffering during her darkest hour.

Never had such a beaten and swollen face seemed so incredibly handsome and sexy to her.

"Xander," Cordelia whispered in a daze when their lips parted, the young woman finally distracted from the horrors of the recent past...for now, at least.

Suddenly, as if splashed by a bucket of cold water, Xander abruptly pulled away, leaving her confused.

"Cordy…we can't," Xander said quietly, gently shaking his head.

"What? Why?" Cordelia wondered, her soft hazel eyes glittering with hurt and fear. For a moment, she wondered whether deep down Xander did indeed blame her for everything, no matter what comforting platitudes he had uttered before.

Harris sighed, shutting his eyes. "It's just…it's too soon. You're still hurting. And I don't want to take advantage of you. It wouldn't be right."

Cordelia shook her head as she reached for his face. "No, i-it's okay. I want to, see?"

"Cor," he said gently, as he took her hands in his and lowered her hands away. "Look, I…it's not you. It's me. I've…got a lot to sort out."

It took her a few moments before she understood.

"You mean that Anya woman," Cordelia said softly as she lowered her eyes in disappointment. She knew all about the ex-vengeance demon's relationship with her ex-boyfriend, even up to the aborted wedding last year.

Xander took in a long, deep breath. "Well…she's a big part of that, yeah. I mean, Ahn and I, we're not together anymore - but the way it ended really hurt, and…I'm just not in a place where I can offer anyone anything right now."

Cordelia didn't like it, but she knew he was right. Besides, the last thing she needed, in her fragile state of mind, was to start anything up again with her old high school ex-honey when he wasn't even sure of where he stood with his own ex-fiancée. Cordy remembered the 'fluke' with Willow very well, and she didn't want to get burned that way again.

As the old adage went, 'once bitten, twice shy.'

Aside from that, Cordelia had yet to clear the air with Angel about where they stood. She had seen the way he was staring at Buffy after she'd woken from the Hypnos spell, so the Vision Girl already had a pretty good idea concerning the lay of the land there, but Cordelia still had to talk to the undead hero about them - about _everything_.

All those things combined made this make-out session ill-advised…no matter how much Cordelia's heart raced, or how lightheaded her head felt, or how safe she felt in Xander's arms…

Sighing, Cordelia nodded. "I understand."

Looking at the clock, she realized that it was now 5:05 a.m. and the sun would rise within an hour. She didn't want to go back to sleep, not for another round of nightmares, but Xander needed to rest. Technically he should be in the hospital right now, but he had refused to go and everyone had been too tired and/or injured to try to force Harris into it.

"You should go back to your room," Cordy said softly, her eyes heavy and sad. "You need to rest."

"So do you," Xander countered just as softly.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," Cordy said with a smile, even though she knew it was a lie.

But Xander wasn't fooled for a second. No matter how much she may have appeared to change, he knew the core parts of Cordelia Chase all too well. "I'll tell you what. You want me to sleep? Fine. On one condition."

Off her confused glance, Harris elaborated, "I get to sleep by your side. Make sure you don't have any more nightmares. Once I'm sure you're getting your z's, I'll head off to my own bed."

Cordelia squirmed at the idea of sharing a bed with Xander. Sure, they had shared a lot of things over the years, like insults, ice cream, spit, broom closets…but never a bed. That was totally unchartered territory. "I…I don't think that's a good id-"

"Oh, come on," Xander lightly cajoled with a teasing grin. "Despite the incredible hotness that is Cordelia Chase, I promise I'll be on my best behavior."

Unable to contain a brief smile over the compliment, Cordelia then bit her lip in pensive thought. Well, she did want to make sure the big idiot was okay while he slept. And she didn't really want to be alone tonight. And it wasn't like they would be doing anything wrong. They were both consenting adults, after all…

"Okay," Cordelia smiled as she nodded her approval. "But no funny business, mister," she said, playfully holding her finger up in warning.

"Scout's honor," Xander said as he held up three fingers, before he realized that was the wrong sign and haphazardly lowered them. "Besides…it'd be kinda hard to put the moves on you when I can barely even move, myself."

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia slowly helped him to his feet as they leaned off of each other and gently made it onto the bed.

With his injured left arm tucked stiffly alongside him, Xander's good right arm reached out and held the soft, yet firm body of the sexy brunette close to him - Cordelia snuggling into his side as she automatically draped an arm across his chest. Feeling those amazing curves against his body, smelling that tantalizing scent of lavender, that natural fragrance of something that was inexplicably Cordy's own…

Well, suffice it to say that Xander's injured eye wasn't the only thing that was swelling right now.

Harris knew that, technically, he should feel guilty about it. After all, things between Anya and him had yet to be resolved - and he still had feelings for his former fiancée, despite all the fighting that they'd been doing lately.

There was definitely no one like Anya Jenkins…but then again, there was only one Cordelia Chase.

"Xander?" the Seer's soft voice broke his musings.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for…this," Cordelia said, as she stared up at the ceiling. "For…everything."

Xander gently rubbed her shoulders as he took in the intoxicating lavender scent of her hair. "It's okay. Besides…it's been a long time since I've had…this. Whatever…this is. It's…nice."

Cordy snuggled in closer as she closed her eyes, a satisfied smile on her lips. "Glad I could help."

And so Harris held her as she slept, whispering words of comfort in her ear when she tossed and stirred at another nightmare, soothing her until she slept peacefully.

Only then did Xander drift off to sleep, despite intending to go back to his own room; and for the first time since his wedding to Anya had fallen apart, did a sense of contentment and a strange kin d of peace wash over Alexander Lavelle Harris as he slept.

Not knowing, caring or even pondering what the consequences of this simple act would bring the next morning from a very jealous ex-fiancée of his.

* * *

**Hyperion hotel lobby**

**Later that morning**

* * *

Buffy marveled at the efficiency and speed with which Andrew had managed to churn out a seemingly endless supply of food from the kitchen, as the others slowly began to trickle down into the hotel lobby for breakfast.

It turned out that Andrew was feeling quite guilty over his lack of action during the melee with Skip last night, and so had decided to make up for it by waking up at the crack of dawn to cook and bake an assortment of breakfast foods for the dozens of people currently staying at the Angel Investigations headquarters.

Stacks of muffins, cinnamon rolls, pancakes, omelettes, waffles, ham, bacon, eggs, sausages, and biscuits, as well as several pots of oatmeal and even several pitchers of freshly squeezed orange juice adorned the four long tables stacked alongside each other in the lobby.

_That boy loves his work_, Buffy noted with approval as she picked up a freshly baked chocolate chip muffin and nibbled on it. To her surprise and delight, the muffin tasted absolutely delicious.

Buffy had to admit, she was in a surprisingly good mood this morning. Between the successful rescue of Cordelia and foiling of Jasmine's plans, she had slept very well.

Of course, there were a few things that were still on her mind which concerned the petite blonde Slayer. In particular, seeing how Dawn and Connor had walked upstairs holding hands and looking all couple-y. _That _had been enough to set off her overprotective Big Sister mentality, until Spike of all people had told Buffy to leave them alone until the following morning; he was going to guarantee nothing untoward happened, by grabbing the room next door to Dawn's for himself.

Normally, that would have satisfied Buffy's concerns. _But_ she had seen Spike and Faith eying each other in a suspiciously flirtatious way, which made her wonder what the hell was going on in that direction as well! Buffy was totally unsure how she felt about Spike - _her_ Spike…kind of, except not really - suddenly eyeing other Slayers in the sea.

And, of course, there was always wondering just what was going to happen between her and Angel, now that Cordelia was back in the land of the non-possessed.

Oh, yeah, and there was the little matter of an out-of-control fallen Power That Was roaming around God-knows-where and the First Evil still lurking in the background, with the fate of the world at stake.

_Sure_. _What's my love life compared to __**that**__ little problem? All of a sudden, I kinda wish I'd stayed in bed a little while longer..._

"Hi, Buffy!" Andrew eagerly greeted, as he emerged from the kitchen in his usual black sweater, black slacks and obnoxious "Smooch the Cook!" apron, carrying a fresh plate of bagels he had just finished baking. "Is your muffin okay? If you don't like it, I can get you another one, or-or-or I can get you a croissant, or an English muffin -"

"Andrew," Buffy began, slightly amused at the kid's obvious attempts to suck up to her.

Andrew's babbling nonetheless continued, "Or I can get you some blueberry pancakes, or cinnamon apple strudel, which is currently baking in the oven as we speak, or some French vanilla coffee, or decaf, if that's your thing -"

Buffy sighed, the amusement having faded by now. "Andrew…"

"I'm really, really sorry about last night," Andrew suddenly blurted out, looking desperate. "I just totally freaked, a-and I didn't know what else to do, and I know it wasn't the bravest thing, and I'm really, really sorry, please don't kick me out or tie me to another chair again, I'll do better next time -"

"_Andrew_!" Buffy cut him off, wincing at the comic geek's antics. "Listen up; it's okay. I don't blame you for not trying to get yourself killed by tackling Skip like the others, understand? I mean hell, look what happened to Xander - odds are that if you'd tried to be a hero, that demon would have torn you in half. And aside from that, the idea of you handling anything sharper than a spoon ladle is pretty…unsettling to me. So, we're cool."

"Really?" Andrew asked, hopeful.

Buffy nodded with an honest smile. "Really and truly…although I _could_ use another chocolate chip muffin…"

"I'll bake you a dozen! Coming right up!" Andrew giddily exclaimed as he darted back into the kitchen, causing Buffy to snort with laughter and shake her head.

Sure, the little goofball might have been a willing minion of that creep Warren, and he registered at least a 9.0 on the Nerd Scale, but damned if she wasn't starting to warm up to him. And if Andrew kept cooking this well for everybody, well - there might actually be a serious use for the little schlub in the Slayage business, after all.

"Mornin', mornin', sunflower seeds," Lorne greeted everyone happily as he strode into the kitchen, joining Gunn, Fred, Willow, Oz, Kennedy, Robin, Lindsey, Wesley, Giles, Whistler and the scores of hungry Potential Slayers, including Molly, Vi, and Amanda and their new friend Anna.

Anya had only been down in the lobby for a few minutes before she'd realized that the still-wounded Xander might need assistance getting down the stairs, and so she'd hurried off to fetch him. Darla was conspicuously absent, but given the presence of Wesley and Lindsey, Buffy doubted she could be far away.

Connor and Dawn were washing up and were supposed to be down at any minute. Kate and her crew were outside, marveling at seeing the sun again for the last few minutes. Spike had also left earlier to get ahold of Faith, who was sleeping late, as usual. And Angel…hadn't shown up yet, much to Buffy's disappointment.

"Hey, Lorne," Buffy smiled brightly. She wasn't normally a big fan of demons, not counting Angel, Spike and Clem (Anya had been human long enough so that she didn't really count anymore) - but there was just _something _about the green-skinned, song-loving Pylean native. Something so likeable, just like with Clem.

"Sleep well?" the senior Slayer asked the Host of Caritas.

"Like a baby, Vanilla Drop," Lorne smiled as he walked over and gently squeezed Buffy's shoulders. "Nothing like a little progress in apocalypse-prevention to take the stress out of life, huh?"

"Doesn't suck, I'll tell you that," Gunn called out as he practically inhaled a mouthful of pancakes, Fred sternly rebuking him as he did so.

"Here, here," Oz smiled as he buttered a hot roll, turning to Willow, who was seated across from him, right next to Kennedy. "How's Xander doing?"

"Still pretty beat up," Willow frowned, as she put strawberry jam on her toast. "That Skip guy really put him through the wringer. I offered to try to mojo the worst of it away, but Xander just backed off straightaway, as if I had the plague or something!"

"Yeah, that was kinda weird. Heck, I tried to persuade him to go the local hospital - St. Matthew's - but he wouldn't have it. So, we opted for a few painkillers, an icepack for the swelling and to let him rest," Fred added after a sip of her orange juice.

"Yes, well, u-under normal circumstances, I would have dragged him to a hospital myself," Giles sighed as he drank his English Breakfast tea. "But it _was_ incredibly late, we were all bloody tired and the blasted sod was making quite a fuss about not leaving the group. At this juncture, I've learned to trust you all to know when you feel you require medical attention. Still, I-I-I suspect it would be best if Xander avoided doing anything too strenuous for the next few days."

Willow shook her head in worry as she remembered the sight of her bloodied and battered childhood friend last night. She had never seen Xander look so bad. Ever.

Buffy bit her lip as she thought the exact same thing. She always worried about the safety of her friends in battle; while she could take a lickin' and keep on tickin', the others were only human.

Xander, in particular, worried her most of all. It went all the way back to high school. While the others had some level of skill or special abilities and knowledge that helped them out in tight spots, Harris could make no such claim. He was all heart…but not a lot of skills.

And if there was one thing Buffy was certain of, it was this-in this line of work, sometimes, heart just wasn't enough to keep you alive.

"I must admit, we definitely owe the man for his actions," Wesley nodded as he washed down his sausages with some Earl Grey tea, the morning newspaper right next to him. "Xander bought us the time to take Skip down, when no one else was left standing."

"Speaking of which, I heard you did some pretty sharp shootin' last night, Tex," Buffy told Wesley with a smile. "Never knew you were such a crack shot, Wes."

"Yeah, I gotta agree," Robin nodded. "Seriously, I saw that shot! Takes a lot of skill to pull off something like what you did."

"I'll say," Whistler smirked as he wolfed down a blueberry muffin. "Pryce over here looked like somethin' outta one of them action hero flicks, with the roll and the perfect aim and..."

Off Lindsey's annoyed stare as he eyed the balance demon from across the table, Whistler smiled coyly as he held up the tray of cinnamon rolls in front of the ex-lawyer. "Pastry?"

"Yes, I must say, Wesley - the tale of that particular gunshot has, has been somewhat remarkable," Giles smiled at the younger Englishman. "It's a pity I was rather…unconscious at the time."

Five years ago, Wesley would have gladly tooted his own horn at all this attention directed his way. He would have gladly basked in it and unabashedly reveled in it, as a matter of fact. But a lot had happened to the once-cocky, upstart Watcher since that time - and the confident, yet quiet and semi-bitter man sitting here now merely shrugged off the attention.

"I saw an opening and I took it," Wesley said in a monotone, as he returned his attention to his breakfast. "I'm just glad Skip didn't kill anyone, or do any more damage than he did."

Molly eyed the handsome British man dreamily, the SiT having already started developing a huge crush on Wesley. "That sounds amazing," she sighed. "And he's so humble about it."

Wesley gave the pretty English girl a polite smile in response, which made Molly blush and Lindsey want to heave.

"Alright, if we're all done fawning over Quickdraw over here? Then I'd like to point out that there's still one ticked-off fallen Power out there, and it looks like she's wastin' no time in getting her hands dirty," Lindsey said as he held up his copy of the morning paper. "Four homeless men were found murdered in an alley on Crescent Avenue around 1:30 a.m. last night, just a few miles away from this hotel. Two with broken necks, one eviscerated, and the other apparently decapitated. Police are currently investigating possible motives, including gang activity, possibly initiation murders - the usual suspects."

Buffy folded her arms, unconvinced. "And you think it's our resident fallen PTB, because…?"

"Well, for starters, how many _normal _crime scenes do you know of that are covered with maggots?" Lindsey asked with a knowing smirk.

That immediately caught Buffy's attention. "Maggots?"

"Several paragraphs down, it's mentioned how it took the police more than an hour to secure the crime scene - on account of needing to clear out an unusually large population of maggots that had infested the area," Wesley elaborated nonchalantly. "McDonald has a point - that _is _a fairly odd instance for a murder in this city."

"Well, I know that fly larvae are the most common type of maggot that's found on dead bodies," Fred added, helpfully. "The length of time they take to develop depends on the condition, like temperature and moisture. The better the conditions, the faster they develop. But even though it's spring right now, it's still pretty uncommon for maggot larvae to infest a corpse within a two to three hour time span."

Buffy blinked, dumbfounded. "Oh. Uh, yeah…psst! Everyone knows that." _What the hell is she talking about?_

"Speaking of appetizing breakfast discussions," Kate interjected, though light-heartedly, as she entered the lobby, her crew following behind before breaking off to fill their plates with breakfast goods.

Lindsey, spotting the attractive former police detective that he hadn't seen in ages, couldn't help another smirk from crossing his face. "Speaking of long time, no see..."

Kate's eyes narrowed at her former foil as a disgusted look crossed her face. "Speaking of making me lose my appetite. I don't talk to Wolfram & Hart lackeys."

An amused smile played on Gunn's face as he turned to look at Lorne. "Damn. I'm startin' to forget why I didn't like that chick," he said quietly, to which Lorne chuckled and even Wesley faintly smiled at.

The three members of Angel Investigations recalled well how much the attractive policewoman had been a thorn in their side after her falling out with Angel years ago, although any inconvenience that Kate had created for them paled in comparison to the grief that Lindsey had caused them while at Wolfram & Hart.

"Well, then, that shouldn't be much of a problem for you, Supercop. Seeing as how I no longer work for Evil Incorporated," Lindsey replied smoothly, still smirking.

Kate snorted as she grabbed a hot roll. "You know what they say, McDonald. You can take the pond scum out of the slime, but you can't take the slime out of the pond scum."

"How cogently put," Wesley tonelessly chimed in.

Darting an annoyed glare at the ex-Watcher, Lindsey turned back to the peeved ex-cop. "Geez, with talk like that, you're making my feelings hurt." With a wolfish grin, he added. "But then again, I always did like a woman who knew how to talk dirty."

Slamming her plate down on the table, Kate threw up her hands in exasperation. "Anyone care to tell me why I have to put up with this scumbag?"

"Because apparently, Scrappy Doo over there might still be of use of us," replied Angel's voice, heralding the vampire's sudden appearance from the top of the stairs as he bounded down for breakfast.

Buffy couldn't prevent her eyes from lighting up at the vampire detective's presence. Feeling her eyes on him, Angel turned to Buffy and gave her a small smile.

"Feeling rested?" he asked softly.

Buffy nodded, with a smile. "Fresh as a daisy. Very daisy-like."

Willow watched the interaction between her best friend and the often broody vampire with keen interest, and could barely contain a smile. The subtle looks of concern, the affectionate smiles, the slight hesitation but visible signs of excitement. It could only mean one thing -Buffy and Angel were starting to pick up where they'd left off ages ago.

_Well, this should be interesting... _Willow thought to herself with great fascination, as she eyed Angel both as a witch and as a woman.

However, the same could not be said of Kennedy and Robin, both of whom eyed Angel with suspicious glances.

Annoyed at Angel's dig, Lindsey turned his eyes towards the leader of Angel Investigations. "Well, look who's up early from his coffin this morning."

Angel eyed Lindsey with distaste. "Just keep making yourself useful, Lindsey, or else you might find yourself in your _own_ coffin."

At that moment, Andrew zipped back from the kitchen, with a dark mug for Angel. "Um, here you go, Mr. Angel, sir. Pig's blood, fresh from the butcher's market, with a hint of otter for flavor."

"Otter?" Angel asked in curiosity, to which Buffy shrugged.

As Angel drank from his mug, he drew back in surprise. "Hey, this is…pretty good, actually."

A pleased Andrew was visibly giddy. "You like it? All right! I looked it up in one of the occult books once, y'know, how vampires like the taste of otter, actually, gives it a sweet taste."

Buffy raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Wow, he even makes blood taste good. Andrew, you put Emeril to shame."

"BAM!" Andrew struck a ridiculous pose as he imitated the famous chef's catchphrase. Off everyone's wary looks, Andrew visibly shrunk back. "Okay, I'm done."

At that moment, Connor and Dawn came down the stairs…which immediately drew Buffy's interest. Mostly, due to the fact that they were coming down hand-in-hand, just as she'd suspected might happen.

Connor was actually smiling, Angel noted; well, sort of. As much as an angry 18-year-old kid with parental issues could smile. But still, compared to other times, to Angel's eyes the boy actually looked…happy. _Please don't let this be a dream…_

"Hey, guys!" Dawn greeted sweetly.

"Hi," Buffy greeted back, with uncertainty.

"Morning," Connor nodded with a polite smile.

What almost knocked Angel for a loop, though, was how the boy even threw a smile at his direction. "Hey, Dad."

"Connor," Angel hesitantly smiled back, not at all displeased at this about-face in his son's behavior. _Geez, if this keeps up, I might even encourage Dawn to **marry** him..._

As the Hyperion's newest couple let go of each other's hands to start stacking their plates with breakfast food, the curious eyes of Molly, Vi, Amanda and Anna bore into them.

The three Potentials, in particular, were giving Dawn questioning looks, dying of curiosity to know if what they were thinking, with the two teens acting so couple-y, was true.

Off Connor's shrug, Dawn nodded with a beaming smile. At that, the female trio screamed giddily and mobbed the young couple, hounding them with excited questions and declarations.

"Omigosh, you two are _soooo_ cute together! When did all this happen?"

"What happened last night? Did you guys work things out?"

"I'm so happy for you guys!"

Willow, who instantly understood what was happening, threw Angel and Buffy a surprised smile. Angel responded with a pleased grin…the same, however, could not be said of Buffy, who stood there with wide eyes and what could only be described as a troubled look on her pretty face.

Angel hadn't mentioned anything last night about Dawn now dating his son! Neither had Spike, damn it. And given the kid's rather unstable behavior as of late, the petite blonde was more than a little concerned about her kid sister getting involved with Connor…the same guy who had gotten Cordy knocked up...

"So, getting back on track, these maggots…you think they're like the ones you saw on this Jasmine thing?" Fred asked Buffy, once the girl-y questions and declarations had died down and both Connor and Dawn had sat down at the next table over.

"Well, myself I've never been a big believer in coincidence," Buffy replied, her distracted thoughts refocusing on a bigger problem - Jasmine.

"Neither have I," Angel added. "Wherever there's smoke, there's almost always fire."

"Or, in this case - where there's maggots, there's an angry, homicidal PTB," Oz chimed in.

"But, of course, no sign of any maggot-faced goddesses walking about," Buffy sighed.

"No eyewitness accounts, I'm afraid," Giles said, examining the paper himself. "It unfortunately leaves us with few clues on this Jasmine creature's current whereabouts."

"Ooh! I can try a locator spell," Willow suggested. "It shouldn't be too difficult."

"Yeah? That's what _you_ think, Witchipoo," Lindsey replied, ignoring Kennedy's glare. Kate's, too, from the table where she and her crew were stuffing their faces with food. The former lawyer added, "Even in a weakened state, 'Jasmine', or whatever name it's using, is still pretty formidable. If it doesn't want to be found, it ain't gonna be."

"Then find a way around it," Angel said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If that thing's out there, we need to get to it before it kills anyone else - or the First Evil sends its minions after it."

"I gotta second that," Buffy added, her face scrunched in thought. "The First pulled a lot of strings to bring Jasmine here, even if it was only to steal the body that so-called goddess was trying to birth itself into. The sooner we can find Jasmine, the sooner we might have a clue as to how to stop the First for good."

"There might be a way," Willow mused in thought. "What about the Orb of Makai?"

Buffy frowned. "The magic blue eight-ball thing? What about it?"

Willow elaborated, as an idea rapidly began swirling around in her mind. "Well, if it deflects divine powers, with the right spell and with the use of the Orb as a conductor…"

"…it might be possible to override this Jasmine's defenses and locate her," Wesley said in realization. "Brilliant as always, Willow."

The redhead smiled at the Englishman, pleased at his compliment. _Gosh, Wesley says the nicest things sometimes..._

"So how fast can you whip up this modified locator spell?" Angel asked. He wanted for them to start ASAP. Even though it was daylight and he couldn't do any real hunting above ground, the sooner they could get a lead on Jasmine the better.

"Oh, uh, it shouldn't take very long," Giles replied vaguely, exchanging a glance with Willow. "Just need to gather the right ingredients."

"In the meantime, I can make a few calls to some contacts I still have in the LAPD," Kate cut in. "Try to see if I can find out anything about unreported crime scene clues, maybe similar instances of violence in the last hour or so. Couldn't hurt to check for chatter on the police scanner, too. If something weird happens, chances are we'll find this Jasmine thing where the action is."

"Then let's get started," Buffy said. "We've got a whacked-out-of-her-mind PTB to track down."

* * *

**Hyperion hotel **

**Later that morning**

* * *

_Looks like the Pouf's ta__stes haven't changed much over the last century or so,_ Spike mused as he wandered down the posh hallways of the third floor of the hotel. _Place kinda reminds me of that old mansion on Crawford Street we were living in a few years back. Oh, bloody hell - I've been living amongst the humans fer too long, if that almost seems like a lifetime ago now..._

Still, while Spike admitted that he liked a few of the creature comforts of life himself, truth be told - he was never much for all the frills of the rich life that his Grandsire had always seemed to crave, soul or otherwise. It reminded the former poet too much of what it had been like growing up with his human mother, back in Victorian-era London; and his actions where his mother was concerned was never a pleasant subject to Spike's mind.

So, Spike shook himself free from his thoughts and briefly reflected on last night's madness. He couldn't recall that much action happening in a single 24-hour span since that whole Glory debacle, a couple of years back. And the fun wasn't over yet, given what Buffy had said about this high and mighty Power That Whats-it lumbering about somewhere like the Jolly Green Giant.

Spike was distracted from his musings when a faint, but familiar rock song hit his ears. He recognized the band as Living Color, the song being "Cult of Personality." A pretty good tune, it reminded him of when he'd visited Las Vegas in 1989 - although nothing could beat the Sex Pistols in New York, during 1977...

"_Look_ _in my eee-yes, what do ya see-eee_?" sang a familiar female voice only a few doors down. "The Cult of Personaaality…"

Following the sound of the slightly off-key lyrics, Spike rounded the corner and walked about three doors down before stopping at the room which Faith and Andrew were currently staying in. It used to be his room as well, before he'd moved out to make sure the Nibblet behaved herself around the Mini-Pouf last night.

Slowly, Spike pushed the slightly ajar door open to find Faith, clad in black denim jeans so skin-tight they looked as if they were painted on, hugging her thighs and ass perfectly. The same could be said of her shirt, a small white cut-off tee shirt of the Boston Red Sox that left little to the imagination. The dark-haired Slayer had her headphones on and her MP3 player was blasting at full volume, as she swayed and danced to the rock hit.

"_I know your an-gerrr, I know your dreams, I've been everything you wa-nna be-ee, oo-ooh, I'm the Cult of Personality_," Faith sang with her eyes closed, lost in her own world as her lithe body moved with a flawless grace and yet a sinfully wild edge.

Spike stared, mesmerized as he watched Faith lose herself in the music, every scintillating curve moving in a smooth, yet untamed rhythm that was captivating, even entrancing to watch. She moved as a flame would, swaying and flickering, hot and…well, she was smoking hot, period.

"_Like Mussolini…and Kennedy…I-I-I-I-I'm the Cult of Personality, the Cult of Personality, the Cult of Personaaaality…"_ the brunette beauty sang, gyrating and swaying back and forth, and Spike's eyes were fixed upon her perfectly-shaped ass as he watched. If Faith was a flame, then Spike was definitely the moth, because he was inextricably drawn to the young woman's every movement.

Spike couldn't help but notice how different Faith's dancing was from Buffy's. He'd seen the blonde object of his affections dance many a time over the years, from the shadows of the Bronze or by a couch when the Scoobies were keeping an eye on him during his chipped days. Oh, sure, Buffy could shake it, all right, and shake it well. But there was a…a lightness in her movements, a kind of innocence in the way the blonde Slayer moved.

There was nothing of the sort in the way Faith danced - she moved like a woman who knew what she was working with, and enjoyed working with it. There was a freedom in her movements, a lack of inhibition that Spike had never seen in Buffy.

Faith moved like she was sex incarnate, wild and edgy and full of fire.

Shaking himself from his musings, Spike smirked as he called out, "I don't suppose I could distract ya from the dirty dancin' long enough to grab a Danish downstairs?"

Unfortunately, Faith didn't have a clue with regard to his presence; her eyes were still shut, lost in the blaring of the music as she continued to dance.

"Oy, Faith?" Spike tried again, to no avail.

With an annoyed shake of his head, Spike inched closer to the former rogue Slayer, who was still oblivious to the fact that the British vampire was in her room.

"Faith!" Spike called loudly as he came within a few inches of her. The vampire's voice coincided with the end of the song and, startled, Faith instinctively whirled around and delivered a solid right cross to Spike's face, drawing a pained yelp from the undead guy as he staggered backwards.

"OH! Spike? Omigod, are you okay? What are you doing here?" a wide-eyed Faith blurted out apologetically as she quickly discarded her MP3 player on the bed.

Wincing as his left cheek flared with the powerful sting of the dark-haired Slayer's blow, Spike forced a smile on his face as he cupped his jaw. "Well, after I finish collecting me teeth off the floor, I'd say so. And as fer question number two, figured I'd invite you for a Danish downstairs."

Faith shook her head, an odd sense of amusement coming over her. "You're like a hundred years old, and you never learned that sneaking up behind a Slayer is hazardous to a vamp's health?"

"A hundred and twenty-three, luv. And the way I earned my rep was by _me_ being hazardous to a _Slayer's_ health," Spike smirked, before he winced as he clutched his jaw again. "And in case I forgot to mention it…_oww_."

Faith rolled her eyes before smiling ruefully. "Sorry 'bout that. I guess I got caught up in the song."

"Living Color. That's a good joint," Spike nodded, as he regained his footing. "Kinda reminds me a little of the Ramones. Though the Sex Pistols are more my taste. Even better when you hear 'em live."

Faith raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "Dude, you actually heard the Sex Pistols live?"

Spike shrugged. "At CDGB's. In New York, 1977, just after the blackout ended. Figured I'd take in a concert, seeing as how I was in a celebratory mood right after I…"

The vampire trailed off, remembering perfectly well what he was doing during the so-called Summer of Sam in New York - hunting down and killing Nikki Wood, the Chosen One of that time. The same Slayer that was the mother of Buffy's boss and newest buddy, Robin Wood, who was probably sitting downstairs plotting how to kill him (again) over coffee and bagels as they spoke.

"After you what?" a curious Faith asked, bringing Spike back to reality.

"Um, after I…handled some business I was attending to," Spike amended cautiously. He wisely opted to switch topics, figuring that the gorgeous Slayer in front of him wouldn't take kindly to a story of the Big Bad taking out one of her predecessors - a member of her special Chosen club. "Me and Drusilla had a bit of fun in between taking care o' business, actually."

Faith shrugged, not interested enough to inquire any further. "So, uh…what brings you up here? Not that I mind the company, but…"

"Breakfast time, luv," Spike explained. "Buffy mentioned you slept in after all the action last night. Figured you must be famished, if what they say about a Slayer's appetite is true 'n all."

"That it is, and that I am," Faith nodded, her stomach grumbling loudly. She felt like she could eat a horse. Last night had been kinda fun, but it had also left her feeling pretty wiped out. _It wasn't easy averting an entire apocalypse in a single day, that's for sure. I_ _wonder how B does it all the time…_

As she walked over to the bed and reached down to pick up her MP3 Player, Faith just barely caught a glimpse of Spike checking out her toned ass as she bent over, only to look away at the last moment when her brown eyes whipped towards him.

The latest incarnation of the Slayer couldn't help the mischievous smile that was forming on her face, as Faith decided to have a little fun with her undead companion. "So, back to my original question…what brings you up here? I mean, B could've come up herself or sent somebody else to get me. Yet here you are, blue eyes and all."

Spike gave her a chuckle. "Well, figured you could use a friendly face to give you the wake-up call. Seeing as how Angel was off doing his morning moping somewhere, Andrew was baking away in the kitchen and everyone else was raiding the tables, I figured it might as well be me."

"Is that what you are? A friendly face?" Faith eyed him with a flirtatious smile.

"Well, at least the one I got on right now's friendly enough," Spike replied with a smirk. Normally, most guys would have turned to mush when a beauty like Faith suddenly turned up the wattage in those pretty doe eyes and eyed them with the sultry look she had - but William the Bloody was definitely not 'most guys'.

"No complaints over here, stud, that's for sure," Faith smirked back, appreciatively eyeing the way Spike's blue T-shirt hugged his muscled frame.

"Me neither, sweetheart," Spike replied, his eyes roaming briefly over the curves of her form-fitting tee shirt. "But if it's all the same, I'd rather talk while we walk. Andrew was going on and on 'bout how I've got to try some otter blood concoction, or whatever that silly prat was goin' on about."

"It keeps him busy, which means he's off annoying someone else," Faith shrugged. "Though, I gotta admit...all that food _does_ smell pretty good down there. Guess the guy can do something right, aside from reciting the Vulcan alphabet backwards or whatever."

"Right," Spike nodded, before suddenly growing serious…and if Faith didn't know better, she could've sworn he even looked a little nervous. "So, um…I was wondering…"

"I'm tingling in suspense," Faith smiled teasingly.

Spike took a moment to clear his throat, as he tried to keep his composure, summoning as much of the cool mystique that he had developed over the last century to the forefront. "Well, I was thinking. What with most o' the badness outta the picture right now, and uh, with a little down time at the moment…I, uh, heard of this club a few minutes from here. Live music, pretty good beer, they even claim to have the best burgers in town if you're into that sort of thing…well, I reckon that it could be…fun. You know, if you're into that sort of thing -"

"Dude. Are you asking me out on a date?" an amused Faith grinned at him.

"Now let's not get into labels, pet," Spike hastily replied.

Faith frowned, folding her arms across her chest. "Okay, but would someone who's into labels be able to label this a 'date'?"

Spike laughed, although Faith could sense it was one born out of jitters rather than mirth. "It's just two people gettin' a beer, luv. And some music…plus they have a dance floor, which, again, if you're into that-"

"Dayy-tuh. Say it with me, princess, it's a date," Faith mocked him.

Spike huffed impatiently. _Damn bint, why's she making a federal case out of this?_"Okay, fine, if you're so hard up on labels, then yeah, you can label it a date, if that puts yer mind at ease."

Faith couldn't resist one more jab. "But are you labelling it a date, Spike?"

Spike groused semi-angrily. "_Fine..._it's a bloody date as far as I'm concerned, too."

"Well, now my beating heart is all a-flutter," Faith smirked. Then she frowned. "Hey, you doin' this to make B jealous or something? 'Cause if you are, I'm not interested in-"

"Oh, bloody hell, woman, I'm not trying to make anyone jealous! Now, you wanna grab a bleedin' beer tonight or what?" Spike brusquely asked, having grown tired of the dark-haired Slayer's teasing.

Faith paused for a moment, considering his proposition, before she shrugged. "Okay."

The frown on Spike's face melted as he gaped at the brunette. "Okay?"

"Well, I haven't had all that much down time since I busted outta the slammer, and I could use a little somethin' of the fun variety," Faith replied as she put on her blue jean jacket. "Assuming things down at Command Central are green tonight, we're five-by-five for that beer."

"Five-by…does that means 'yes' for tonight?" Spike asked, caught off-guard by Faith's unusual catchphrase.

"Sure, but I gotta warn you…a night out with me can be a little wild, definitely not for the faint of undead heart," Faith smiled, her smile almost a challenge.

"Trust me...I like it wild," the platinum-blond vampire replied with a smoothness in his voice that could put any rock and roll star to shame.

Pleased with his answer, Faith winked at Spike before she walked out ahead of him as they headed down the hall. "We'll see."

Spike hadn't looked more forward to nightfall in quite some time, he realized with a small smile.

* * *

In her suite, Darla had been staring at her reflection in the mirror for the last hour or so. The night before had been…unsettling. And not because 'Jasmine' was on the loose, somewhere out there.

Rather, it was because of what had transpired while she was in the astral plane fighting Jasmine and the Beastmaster alongside Buffy.

It was still as vivid as the moment it had first happened to her - the shifting of her facial features, the old and ancient power seeping through her pores…the sweet, hot taste of coppery blood on her tongue.

It had felt like forever since she could feel the monster underneath the surface…the cruel, remorseless demon that she had been. And yet, during that long and terrible battle inside Cordelia's mind, that Darla had come back, fangs and fists and all. Cold, dead heart and cruel sense of humor.

The deadly Immortal Belladonna ripe and in all her murderous glory.

As she slept the night before, Darla had dreamed of that monster created by the Master back in the 1600s. She'd tossed and turned as she remembered the screams, the blood, the anguish, the very last breaths of her victims over four centuries soaked in death, destruction and agony.

She'd whimpered as she dreamt horrifying visions of the monster breaking free in the Hyperion after the soul spell was cast, snapping Buffy's neck, sinking her fangs into a screaming Cordelia's throat, driving a beaten and battered Angel sternum-first into the wooden legs of an overturned table, tearing out Wesley's throat, ripping off one of Lindsey's arms before bludgeoning him to death with it, killing them all one-by-one…

…until all that was left was Connor, trying to stagger away from her, though he could not do so as she had broken both of his legs.

That awful, evil smile on the demon's face as she sank her fangs into her son's throat while he screamed and begged for mercy, proclaiming his love for her with his last breath…that vision was enough to wake Darla up with a loud gasp, leaving her trembling and frightened as she stayed awake for the remainder of the night.

Connor's mother was too worried to be tired, too scared to sleep as she'd spent the rest of the night waiting for the first rays of daylight, running several tests on herself, trying desperately to quell her worries and suspicions, to find some justification for the unusual tingling in her veins that somehow felt…familiar.

To her horror, Darla had found that she could bend steel in her grip, easily crushing a metallic heirloom adorning the shelf on one of the walls, followed by bending and unbending the metal towel racks in her bathroom. She was fast, too, able to catch objects she'd tossed to any corner of the room before they could strike the walls with inhuman speed. She could hear the heartbeats of everyone on her floor, their pulses thrumming in her ears like a drummer's tapping. She could even smell the sweat forming on their skin…

Darla had overturned every shelf in the room until she'd found a cross and holy water, stashed there for safety. She had tentatively dabbed drops of the blessed water on her arm and touched the Christian relic…only to find that they didn't harm her at all.

No sizzling of flesh, no searing pain. She had even plunged her arm right into the first real patch of daylight when it came streaming through her window, only to find that it was warm…but not burning hot. Certainly not hot enough to make her skin burst into flames.

As she stared into the reflection of her bathroom mirror, a confused Darla gave voice to her fears in one simple question:

"What's happening to me?"

* * *

**Hyperion hotel **

**A while later**

* * *

Dawn and Connor could barely contain their laughter as they snuck back into the hallway. The couple had managed to carefully sneak off amid the chaos of breakfast for some 'alone time'.

"Okay, I think we're clear," Dawn smiled as she quietly spoke.

"Good," Connor smirked as he pulled Dawn against his body, eagerly kissing her. Momentarily surprised by his sudden move, Dawn nonetheless began to respond as her lips began crushing against his.

It was…intense. For many moments there were no thoughts in Dawn's mind other than this boy who was causing her hormones to go into overdrive. She could feel Connor's lips, his tongue, his…everything, and she was loving every single moment of it.

Enjoying their impromptu make-out session for several moments as she ended up with her back against the wall, as Connor started sucking on her neck and gently nibbling on her ear - Dawn's thoughts couldn't help but to wander to something else that had occupied her mind, aside from her new beau…in particular, that bolt of energy that had escaped her last night in the sewers.

Since it had happened, she had begun to feel a little…weird. Something tingly had been tickling her insides since last night, and Dawn had felt…completely different. It was like something had awakened inside her…something long dormant.

"Connor?" she asked softly, which drew his attention as he pulled back.

"What?" the guy asked with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

"It's just…well...about last night…I, I guess I'm still a little freaked out about things," Dawn explained.

Connor's eyes fell dejectedly as he incorrectly presumed she meant their relationship. "Oh. You mean…me."

Surprised for a moment, Dawn quickly clarified, "Oh, no, Connor, believe me, it's not you!" The brunette gave him a small smile as she reached up and stroked his face. "Of all the weirdness I've had to deal with in the last few weeks, you're the only weirdness I actually look forward to."

Connor gave his new girlfriend a happy puppy-like smile. "Thanks," he said, before the young man frowned at the use of the word 'weirdness' to describe him. "I think..."

Dawn sighed as she looked downwards. "It's just…that weird green light that came out of me. I've never felt anything like that before, and it's like, I can still feel it. Deep inside, you know? It's like something flicked the 'On' switch inside me, and I don't know how to turn it off. And it's…kinda scary."

Connor took a look over her, inhaling her scent. Oddly, she didn't smell any different to him - still the same intoxicating fragrance of raspberry lip-gloss, candy-like perfume and Dawn's own natural, sweet scent.

"You don't smell any different to me," he told her bluntly.

Dawn crinkled her nose, suddenly understanding what Buffy had written about once in her diary about Angel's sniffy sense being kind of creepy. "That's sweet…in a slightly gross kind of way. But, anyway…I _feel _different."

Connor mused for a moment at Dawn's admissions. "Like you might be turning into something, or like you might be...?"

"Like I think might have…powers," Dawn explained, slightly faltering as she finished her statement.

Connor's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh."

Dawn sighed as she gave voice to her confusion. "I don't know if it's good or bad, Connor, but I know something's _changing_ in me. And…I don't know how I feel about that. I mean, all this time, ever since I found out that Buffy was the Slayer, all I've ever dreamed about was what it would be like to be in her shoes. What it would be like to be seen as someone everybody could look up to and count on when there was real trouble. Like Buffy, and Angel, and Spike, or even Willow."

Dawn then frowned as she started to imitate Buffy's voice, "But, instead, over the years it's been all, 'Oh, you can't be outside past 8 p.m., it's not safe, Dawn,' or 'No, you can't help research that man-eating demon, Dawn,' 'No fight training for you, Dawn, it's too dangerous,' 'I'm just trying to protect you and show you this big beautiful world, Dawn,' 'Blah, blah, blah, you're just a stupid kid, Dawn.' _Ugggghhh_! But what if I have the power to change all that now? What if I really do have powers? Maybe I can actually count for something. Maybe I can be…counted on."

A pensive look crossed Connor's sharp, yet handsome features. "I don't know, Dawn. I've had my powers all my life. I'm pretty used to them. But…they're not always so great to have." A somber look appeared in his keen blue eyes. "Ever since I came to this dimension…I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to be just a normal guy. To be able to…just fit in."

Dawn shook her head. "I know, I know. But all I've ever done is just fit in. Maybe I want to stand out, for once. Maybe I want to be…special."

Connor gave her a small smile as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I can't believe you still don't see it."

"See what?"

His eyes met hers. "Dawn…you _are_ special."

Dawn's heart fluttered at the words as she stared entranced into the boy's blue eyes. Smiling back, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You know what? All this talking and watching your lips move is reminding me - you have a girlfriend to kiss, mister."

Connor gave her a mischievous smile. "Yes, ma'am."

With that, his mouth met hers as lips and tongues collided once more in a heated make-out session.

At that moment, Faith and Spike were rounding the corner…at the same time that Darla slowly and shakily exited her room only a few doors down from the teens, still trying to deal with how _different _she now was.

"OY! What the _bloody hell_ is _this_?" barked an angry Spike as his eyes bulged in outrage at the sight of Connor's mouth starting to hover over Dawn's neck, his precious 'Nibblet' with her eyes closed in rapture as she cradled the young man's head.

At that, the two startled teens jumped apart, Dawn's eyes wide in shock and embarrassment. "Uh, um, I…hi, guys," she meekly smiled, hastily straightening her blouse at the sight of a livid Spike and a mildly amused Faith.

Off Darla's look of surprise, followed by a stern, motherly glare, Connor gulped as he sheepishly scratched his head. "Uh…g'morning, Mom."

"Yeah, well, looks like somebody's having a _really_ good morning," Faith smirked, which earned her a glare from Spike and Darla.

"It's not what it looks like," Dawn blurted out quickly.

Darla raised her eyebrows, almost sardonically. "So, you and my son weren't making out in public - literally right here, in the middle of the hallway?"

Dawn swallowed. "Okay, so I guess it _was_ what it looked like."

Growling, Spike eyed Connor with a growing contempt as he menacingly stepped forward. "I'm telling ya, mate, I'm sure there's a thousand reasons why I shouldn't tear off your googlies and make a necklace outta 'em - but so help me, right now, I can't think of a single one."

Ever the hotheaded teen, a sneering Connor stepped forward, eying the vampire challengingly. "Come on; make a move, Leech Boy. I've got a stake right here with your name on it."

"Guys, please, don't do this," Dawn pleaded.

Faith shook her head and muttered, "Oh, crap, not this again…"

With incredible swiftness, and deciding to put her own issues on hold for now, Darla stepped between her son and her Great-Grandchilde. "Enough, both of you!"

Taking a look at Connor, Darla said, "While your actions may have been…inappropriate…" She then turned to eye Spike, "…there's no reason to resort to violence over it. Especially considering that it's _my_ son that you're threatening to castrate, _William_."

Spike sized up the youth for a moment, his narrowed eyes never leaving Connor as he spoke to Darla. "Long as he minds his manners 'round the Nibblet, I reckon he can keep his stones where they are - for now."

"Ooh, I'm shaking with fear," Connor replied with a cool smirk, earning him a slap on the arm from Dawn, followed by an admonishing glare.

Turning her gaze to Darla, Dawn became very apologetic. She started babbling, "Look, Mrs…um…Darla, I-I'm really sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect or anything, but y'know, I really like Connor, and I know he likes me, too, and I was just kinda freaked out about last night, and this weird green light that came out of me, and Connor was just trying to help -"

Chuckling, Darla held up her hand. "Relax, Dawn. It might have been a _very _long time ago, but I still remember what it's like to be a teenager - young and hot-blooded and making rash decisions. Having said that, though, next time - I don't think it would kill either of you to get a room, would it?"

Dawn blushed. "I guess not."

"I wouldn't count on it," Spike muttered, bristling at the notion of leaving his innocent little Dawn alone in a room with Angel's horny little hellspawn, especially considering that it was Connor that had apparently knocked up that Cordelia bint some time ago.

Rolling her eyes, Faith nudged him with her elbow. She was actually kind of happy for the brats. Dawn was a sweet kid, and if having her around Junior would make him a little less sullen and creepy, then she was all for it.

Faith's musings were cut off as she suddenly recalled a few key words out of Dawn's mouth. "Yo, wait up, Li'l D…what was that about a green light you were talking about, that came outta you?"

At that, all eyes went to Dawn, who immediately felt self-conscious and berated herself for the Willow-esque babble-fest just now. _Oh, crap! __**Why**__did I have to open my big mouth about __**that**__?_

Connor, sensing her discomfiture, instinctively moved to her side in a protective fashion. "It's nothing important, just something that happened," he lied, keeping his voice smooth and controlled…a little too controlled for Spike's ears.

"Yeah? Well, why do I find that hard to believe?" Spike replied, before taking a concerned look at Dawn. "Dawn? What's goin' on, luv?"

Defensively, Connor snapped, "I told you, it's nothing you should be -"

"Connor," Dawn softly cut him off, raising her hand for him to stop. "It's okay."

At that, Connor turned concerned eyes toward his girlfriend. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Dawn sighed, resigned to the fact that the cat was well and truly out of the bag now. "Besides, it's kinda pointless trying to lie when there's a vampire in the room, y'know."

"Okay, so, what's up?" Faith asked.

Turning her head both ways to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, Dawn said, "Um, not here. Is there somewhere more private we can talk?"

"My room," Darla offered. "Come on, this way."

With that, the party of five quickly entered Darla's suite, the blond woman making sure to lock the door afterwards. _Well, this should be interesting…_

Dawn wrapped her arms around herself, biting her lip nervously. She had wanted to figure this out on her own, but it didn't seem like that was an option anymore. She only hoped that whatever it was that was happening to her, these people could help her understand it.

And, hopefully, keep her overprotective sister out of it, at least for the time being.

Connor looked around the room, recalling how not so long ago - Darla had talked with Angel in here after his mother had teleported him, Anna and herself out of the factory, when the fake Cordelia had gone on the warpath. Those memories were not good ones. Then the male teen looked at the bed, and suddenly suspicion crystallized into certainty…

…this had to be the very same place where he had been conceived, thanks to his parents having angry sex all those years ago. _Like Dawn would put it_ - _GROSS!_

"Floor's all yours, Bite-Size," Spike gently offered, drawing Connor out of his unwelcome mental musings.

Taking a deep breath, Connor offering a nod of encouragement, Dawn told the group everything. The weird light, the explosion of power that had nearly killed the insectoid demon, how she was feeling somewhat strange since last night, all of it.

Darla, Spike and Faith looked at each other in concern as Dawn finished her tale, which made the girl only more self-conscious.

"Sodding hell. Why didn't you tell us all this last night, Platelet?" Spike asked, concern and worry filling his eyes. "Didn't ya think it'd be kinda newsworthy for us to know that you're suddenly lighting up like a bleeding Christmas tree, and spewing out laser bolts from your mouth?"

"Well, there was a lot going on, especially with Buffy and Darla and Cordelia…and, I-I didn't want to worry anyone, and…and I was confused. I still am," Dawn admitted, fidgeting under Spike's glare. "And…I guess I was kinda scared."

"So, Dawn. You think this have something to do with that whole Key thing you got goin'?" Faith asked. While in prison, Angel - to whom Buffy had confided Dawn's origins during the night of Joyce's funeral - had entrusted her with that secret, feeling that Faith deserved to know; given that the brunette Chosen One also had memories of Dawn and might want to make amends to her one day.

"I dunno. Maybe," Dawn shrugged helplessly.

Spike rubbed his face, contemplating what all of this meant. "Yeah, maybe, luv. But I reckon Big Sis might have a better idea of what to do -"

"_No_!" Dawn all but shouted. "Spike, please…don't tell Buffy about this."

Confused, Spike gaped at the youngest Summers girl. "Nibblet, she _has_ to know. Besides, if your sister finds out that I knew something about…whatever it is that's going on with you…and that I didn't tell her, she'll have my arse in an ashtray faster than you can blink!"

"And what a shame that would be," Connor muttered sarcastically.

Spike glared at Angel's son. "Just like it'd be a damn shame if I was to accidentally rip out your windpipe so you could stop making that annoying talking sound, you little git?"

"Spike, enough!" Darla snapped, growing weary of this little spat between the two males. "And that goes for you too, Connor!"

Faith crossed her arms. "Look, Dawn, if you're suddenly shooting light beams outta your eyeballs, don't you think maybe we should bring in the others on this? I mean, I know B's wound a little too tight; but if you were my sister, I'd be pretty pissed if I learned you tried to hide this from me -"

"Faith, you don't understand," Dawn interrupted. "You haven't been back all that long, you don't know what Buffy's like now. She's gotten all ridiculously over-protective - and Spike, _don't _say anything!" Dawn snapped at the British vampire, who shut his mouth in annoyance after opening it to contradict her. "Look, I…I think this might be a good thing. I mean…what if I have powers now? What if this means something?"

"Something like what? You're eventually gonna turn into this portal of nastiness that swallows the whole world into Hell?" Faith asked calmly, which drew a horrified stare from Dawn and glares from Connor, Spike and Darla.

Faith only shrugged. "What? Like you guys weren't thinking it might be possible?"

"Actually, _I_ don't think that's what's happening here," Darla said, as she sent a look towards Dawn.

At that, the former vampire drew Dawn's immediate attention. "You mean…you think you might know what's going on with me?"

Darla motioned for Dawn to come closer, which the teen quickly did. The blonde woman scanned the girl from head to toe, before she took one long, hard look into the young girl's wide blue eyes, searching for something that only a magically inclined person could see.

"Mom?" Connor asked, watching the two females with curiosity.

Just as Darla was beginning to think that maybe her suspicions were wrong, finally she saw it. In the very core depths of Dawn's blue irises…a glimmer of green light.

"Ah, I see," Darla smiled knowingly.

"You do?" Dawn asked, a dash of hope appearing in her eyes. "You understand what's happening to me?"

Darla nodded. "I think I do. But before we get into that, you have to be completely honest with yourself, Dawn…about who you are. Or rather…_what_ you are."

Dawn swallowed, her eyes falling to the floor. She knew very well what Darla was talking about.

"What's she talking about?" Faith asked.

"She means…the fact that I'm not really human," Dawn morosely explained.

Spike and Connor immediately opened their mouths to protest, only for Dawn to cut them off before they had a chance to say anything. "Guys…I know! I already know what you're gonna say. That I'm human enough for you, that I'm normal…but we all know the truth here. I'm someone who was…who was created by magic. The only reason I'm here is because a bunch of monks who were peeing their robes when Glory came a-knockin' decided to turn a mystical Key into a real girl and foist her onto the Slayer for safekeeping."

As much as she sometimes wished it, Dawn could not unlearn the terrible truth that she had learned from Giles's Watcher Diary entries on that fateful night two years ago. And despite all of the assurances that her loved ones had given her through the past two years, despite all of Buffy's attempts to make sure that Dawn lived a normal life, like any normal girl…deep down, Dawn knew that she was _not_ a normal girl.

She was the Key, or at least the humanized version of it. A mystical force of nature, trapped in the body of a sixteen-year-old girl who loved junk food, Pokemon, the Harry Potter book series and sappy chick flicks.

"On the contrary, Dawn, you're very much human," Darla gently explained, taking pity on the insecure girl. "But there's so much more to you than that."

"Yeah, I know," Dawn muttered, sarcastically. "Come one, come all, see the amazing Portal Girl - able to unravel the fabric of reality with the right ritual and a few drops of her blood, but for this week only!"

Darla smiled a little - the female teen's flippant attitude so similar to Buffy's, which she had come to know quite well during their trip on the astral plane. "Yes, there is that. But more importantly…it means you have power deep inside you. Potential that's just sitting there, waiting to tapped."

"I don't understand," Dawn said with a frown.

"Inside you is a cosmic force…an energy unlike any other," Darla explained. "And from what I remember about the basics of physics, what is energy but the ability of a person or thing to perform a task? And like all energy…even the Key's can be converted into something different."

"Okay, what are we talking about here?" Faith asked, getting lost in the conversation.

Spike frowned, but said nothing. _What the hell are you up to, Darla?_

As Darla's patient gaze met Dawn's eyes, the female teen couldn't help but to marvel at the eyes of the older woman. Those blue-grey eyes held a gaze that was so old, so ancient, it was as if she was looking into the depths of an wise old soul.

"Tell me something, Dawn," Darla smiled. "What is it that you desire above all else? What's the one thing that you want most of all?"

There were a lot of things that Dawn wanted. She wanted this latest freakin' apocalypse to stop. She wanted her mom back. She wanted for Buffy not to be in danger of dying yet again. She wanted for things to get better between Angel and Connor.

But there was one thing, one thing she had always wanted more than anything else…

"I want to help," Dawn said quietly. "I want to…to matter. To count. Be counted on. Like Buffy is."

"You want to be a hero," Darla amended, nonetheless nodding her head. "To have others see you the same way that they see your sister."

Faith looked aside for a moment, the subject hitting a little too close to home for her liking. She'd been there, where Dawn was - trapped in the larger-than-life shadow that Buffy's tiny little frame seemed to cast. Way back when, it just never seemed like it was ever enough; for all the same powers, all the same training, everything that the two Slayers had in common, Faith had long ago realized that she could never compete with Buffy amongst the Sunnydale crowd.

Faith would always be the substitute Chosen One in their eyes. The _other_ Slayer. _Second best_, the thought echoed in Faith's mind for a moment, before she brushed it away. _Well, screw it. Who cares? I'm not that Faith anymore. Like Angel once said - that's all in the past now…_

After a beat, Dawn nodded, confirming Darla's thoughts. "Yeah. That's what I want."

"Why?"

Dawn looked up in brief surprise at the serious look in Darla's eyes, a look that seemed to be testing her for some unknown purpose. Deciding it was best to go with the truth, the brunette teenager exhaled and explained the reason for her wish.

"Because…because I'm sick and tired of the people I love putting themselves in danger…dying, even…and not being able to help in any way. Well, not in any way that really _counts_. It makes me feel…useless. Like I was never meant for more than just being a helpless victim, poor little Dawnie. I just…I wanna be able to help, whenever the demons or the vampires or the Bringers show up. To do something, _anything_. That's why, I guess, in a nutshell."

Taking in the girl's answer, Darla smiled, apparently pleased with the answer she received. "And what if I told you that there was a way to make that happen?"

Dawn drew back in surprise, as puzzled looks filled the faces of Faith, Spike and Connor.

"Now, wait just a minute, Great-grandma - what exactly's goin' on 'ere?" Spike demanded, his eyes filled with suspicion. He wasn't sure where Darla was going with all of this, but he was pretty sure he didn't like the sound of it.

"What he said," Dawn said, uncertainty written on her face.

"The truth is, Dawn, the Key energy is changing within you, on account of something - I don't know what - must have set it off. I even saw it for a moment just now, that green light in your eyes. It's trying to express itself, manifest physically," Darla explained slowly. "But rather than wait until it does that - which, quite frankly, could bring about any number of consequences - I think I might be able to affect that energy with a little bit of what the Beastmaster used to corporealize me. Think of it as…well, shaking up a can of Coke, but only pressing the lid halfway to relieve the pressure."

Dawn was smart enough to figure out what Darla's explanation meant. "You're talking about changing me, somehow."

"One aspect of you, yes," Darla said, nodding again. "It'll give the Key energy a way to manifest itself safely. The result will be you gaining abilities beyond what you had ever conceived as possible."

The thought of such powers was an exciting concept to Dawn…and an incredibly frightening one at the same time. "Like what?"

"Unfortunately, I don't know," Darla admitted. "That's something that you'll have to discover on your own. However, if you prefer the alternate choice, I could always permanently quell the Key energy instead."

"Quell?" Dawn asked. "As in, take it away from me?"

Darla nodded. "If you prefer."

"Why would I want to do that?" Dawn asked, truly puzzled. This could potentially be the coolest thing to ever happen to her; why would she want to go back to just being regular old Dawn Summers?

"Because having powers isn't just about helping people, or doing whatever you want. You'll be in the spotlight, Dawn…but not in a good way," the ex-vampiress explained. "Buffy, Angel, Spike, Faith, Connor, Willow, even the Potential Slayers…they're targets. Because of the power they have, or could have. By doing this, you won't just be behind the scenes anymore, Dawn - you'll be a player. A target. The First and its minions will be coming after you, because of the threat you'll pose to them. You'll be in constant danger, which means you'll have to grow up very fast and learn about your abilities very quickly. Life as you know it will never be the same. And once I open that door for you, if you step through it…there will be no going back."

"Then forget it," Spike said roughly, before he saw Dawn glaring at him. "Oh, c'mon! You're not doin' this without even speaking to Big Sis about it first! After Buffy found out, she'd kill us both!"

"Hold up a minute," Faith broke in. "B probably _would_ kill me for sayin' this, but I think at this point - it's really Dawn's decision, isn't it? I mean, you heard the kid - she wants to help. And if this neat-o power of hers really is _that_ powerful, it might be just what we need to get a leg up on the bad guys. I mean, we're not exactly in the position of turning down any possible help, are we?"

"Dawn," Connor cut in, his eyes clouded with worry. "What Mom's saying…look, you don't have to do this. Let us - let _me _worry about the bad guys! I can protect you. You don't need to change yourself just to be a part of this insanity!"

"Much as I hate to admit it, I gotta agree with the whelp on this one," Spike nodded, his eyes meeting Dawn's. "L'il Bit…you've already been through hell ever since your mum passed away. There's no need for you to do this."

"Faith, what was it like for you when you became the Slayer?" Dawn asked, ignoring the looks from Spike and Connor.

"Like I was totally juiced," Faith recalled. "It was like…this rush of power. A little scary, sure, but it was awesome. Like I was a living weapon, I guess, just like you could be -"

"Dawn's not a weapon!" Connor angrily snapped. "And she doesn't need to be caught in the crossfires of a war!"

"Like it or not, Junior, we're all in the crossfire here if you haven't noticed," Faith retorted brusquely. "Your girlfriend isn't any different. Maybe by amping up her batteries, she might have a better shot of surviving all this - you ever think about that?"

"Is that all you care about? Winning some stupid battle?" Connor said accusingly. "What is it with you people and your need to keep on fighting?"

"Life's a constant battle, kiddo," Faith shot back, getting more annoyed by Connor's remarks by the second. "You wanna sit around and bake brownies and braid hair? Go join a Girl Scout troop."

"Guys, stop it!" Dawn shouted. "Please…look, I get what you're all saying, I do. But it's my choice, right? Don't you think _I_ should be the one who decides what to do here?"

Both Connor and Spike's stern answer of "No!" was countered by Darla and Faith's unisoned reply of "Yes," which drew an annoyed frown from Dawn.

Seeing the frown on his girlfriend's face, Connor's expression softened. "Look, Dawn, it's just…I just don't want to see you get hurt. If anything happened to you, I…"

Dawn gave him a soft smile. "I know. And you're super-sweet. But, Connor, honey…I've been on the sidelines my whole life. If I have a chance now to help protect my sister, and you, and everyone else…"

_This __is it,_ Dawn realized. The moment of truth. With one word, her whole life would change. While the thought of being on the hit list of the Ultimate Evil was unsettling to her, the idea of having the power to help her friends and choosing not to as they fought for their lives was even worse.

Dawn flashed back to a few weeks ago, when the Sunnydale gang had mistakenly thought that she was a Potential Slayer. She remembered the anxiety, the fright that she'd first felt at the overwhelming sense of duty - it really _had_ been frightening, thinking that she could be in line to become the next Chosen One.

But whatever doubts Dawn possessed had melted away into purpose, when she'd overheard Xander talking to a sceptical Willow and Anya. Two people who had doubted she could handle the pressures involved.

_Hey, something out there thought that she could handle this and a hell of a lot more. Something out there __chose her._

As she finished thinking back to Xander's words, Dawn Summers realized that this was more than about just her choice - this was why she was here. This was why those Powers That Be that Wesley and Angel talked about must have allowed those monks to mold her little glowing green energy self into flesh and blood.

She was more than just a potential gateway to alternate dimensions. She was meant to be a hero…a champion, like Angel and Buffy.

This was her true purpose…her destiny.

So with a purpose that filled her eyes like never before, Dawn looked at Darla and gave her a small nod.

"Okay. I'm in," Dawn Summers said, keeping her voice level despite the butterflies that filled her stomach.

"No, you're bloody well _not_!" Spike roared, slipping into his game face.

"Let's do this," Dawn said, ignoring him completely.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Darla asked, likewise ignoring the British vamp.

The eyes of the youngest Summers girl grew steely. "I've thought about it - just now, and lotsa times before. Never been surer of anything."

For a moment, William the Bloody looked like he was going to grab Dawn and forcibly drag her out of the room - but then he decided against it. Not only would it get the Nibblet pissed at him all over again - it hadn't been all that long since that conversation in the alley, about last year's attempted rape - but Angel's brat would almost certainly do something stupid, and Spike was smart enough not to want to go up against Connor and Darla and maybe even Faith all at the same time.

"That's it, I'm gonna go get Buffy!" Spike shouted instead, resuming his human mask and heading for the door. "And Dawn, I'm telling you - _don't_ do anything until I come back!"

"Too late, dude. Choice has already been made," Faith indicated, as Spike turned around after reaching the door to the hotel suite.

He was just in time to see Darla reach over and place her right hand just above Dawn's heart, which she felt hammering under her touch with anticipation. "I should warn you," the blond ex-vampiress said cautiously, "this might feel a little…intense."

Immediately, a white light erupted into existence from underneath Darla's palm as the energy passed into Dawn. The female teen gasped as she threw her head upwards, an electric-like jolt of power - power unlike anything she had ever felt before - exploding from every pore in her body, her eyes and mouth suddenly aflame with emerald green light.

Dawn had only felt something like this once before - when she was six years old and her fingers had mistakenly touched an electrical socket when she tried to plug in her night light. Or so she remembered, anyway.

But this, this was a hundred times more intense, every part of her alive with electricity. She felt as if she was connecting with something, something powerful and primordial…yet strangely familiar.

"What the hell?" Faith asked in wonder at the sight.

"Nibblet! Are you alright?" Spike exclaimed, silently cursing himself for not stopping this from happening as he stormed over to Buffy's little sister.

"Dawn!" Connor shouted, turning to Darla. "Mom, what's happening?"

"She'll be fine, she's stronger than you think," Darla assured her son as she watched.

A few moments later, the light in her body began to die down and Dawn swooned a little before the world went off-balance and she felt herself begin to fall…only to be caught as a swiftly moving Connor grabbed her before she could hit the ground.

"Dawn! Dawn, are you okay?" Connor asked frantically, the others beginning to crowd around them.

With a groggy shake of her head, Dawn slowly began to regain her footing. "Yeah," she muttered. "I'm alright."

"You feel any, y'know…different?" Faith asked, curious as to what the results of this new supernatural makeover would be.

After a beat, Dawn answered. "Kinda tingly."

Spike snorted, unimpressed yet also kinda relieved. Maybe Buffy wouldn't stake him after she learned what had happened here, after all. "Well, looks to me like you got whole lotta nothin' to show for such a big overture..."

"We don't know that yet," Darla countered.

"I still don't like this," Spike persisted. "When Buffy finds out what you just did, ducks - sparks, and maybe even a couple of stakes, are gonna fly."

"Well, no use crying over spilled spells, Spike," Faith shrugged. "What's done is done now."

"Yeah, and a big help you were tryin' to talk Dawn out of it!" Spike groused as he scowled at Faith. "What if something went wrong?"

"Listen, dude, I've just about had my fill of your little temper tantrums," Faith said warningly, her voice low with menace. "That crap may be okay with B - but it's _not_ fine with me, comprende? I'm not her. And I'll never _be_ her. So lose the attitude and start respecting Dawn's right to make her own decisions, or else you can _forget_ about that beer later on tonight."

"Fine," Spike tried not to sulk like a spoiled child.

"Aww, is the big bad vampire upset?" Connor asked sneeringly.

"And you can cut out the attitude as well, Junior," Faith turned to glare at the Destroyer of Quor-toth. "'Cause I wouldn't think twice about whupping your scrawny ass, so give it a rest - got that?"

"Hey, Dawn could have gotten hurt because of this! Or don't you care?" Connor shot back.

"Back off, punk, ya heard the lady," Spike cut in, moving directly in front of Faith. "Look, I'm not any crazier about it than you are - but what's done is done, like she said."

"You think I care what _you_ have to say about all this, Blood Breath?" Connor spat.

"Hey, all of you, just calm down!" Darla tried to ease the sizzling tempers, but to no avail; no one was listening to her.

The arguing adults continued to raise their voices as Dawn, already addled and confused by the spell, shut her eyes, trying to block their voices out. "Guys, stop it…" she said, weakly.

"Maybe you'll care when I rip out your spine and skip rope with it, whelp," Spike threatened Connor. "Now apologize to the Slayer before I lose my cool…and _you_ lose your **_head_**."

"Seriously, Spike, quit it. I don't need you fighting my battles for me," Faith brushed him aside as she stared down Connor.

Bristling, Spike eyed Faith with outrage. "What? I'm on _your_ side here!"

"Yeah? Well, guess what - I don't need saving like some damsel in distress, okay?" Faith shot back.

"Oh, of all the... you're one of the most bloody well _infuriating _females on the planet, ya know that?" Spike retorted with a disgusted shake of his head.

Faith laughed derisively. "This from a guy who hung out for a century with a dead chick who was cuckoo and not for Cocoa Puffs? Oh, yeah, that's rich."

The argument was becoming more and more heated until Dawn, who had drifted over to the far right corner of the room, shouted, "STOP IT!" as she slammed both hands hard on a heavy wooden desk…

…which suddenly bent, buckled and split into two, wood, paper and other contents spilling across the floor.

All four heroes paused, their yelling effectively silenced as they stared at Dawn in shock.

Staring at the debris in awe, Dawn raised her now-trembling hands towards her, eying them in wonder. _Did I do that?_

Swallowing nervously, Dawn quietly uttered, "Okay…that's new."

Faith, still staring in surprise, managed to say what was on everyone else's minds.

"Well, look who just joined Club Super-Powers..."

* * *

On the cheap AM/FM radio next to the dresser, the lyrics of a Coldplay song, 'Warning Sign,' began blaring through the scratchy speakers as the morning alarm went off…

_A warning sign,_

_I missed the good part, then I realized_

_I started looking and the bubble burst._

_I started looking for excuses…_

The first thing Xander felt when he awoke was pain on the side of his face, the result of swelling thanks to Skip's remorseless beating last night.

The second thing he felt was a curvy, soft and warm thing curling up against him, softly exhaling with every breath.

As his senses came to him slowly, Xander opened his eyes to see a slumbering Cordelia, her right arm lazily strewn over his stomach as she slept, her head tucked comfortably against his chest.

Little by little, Xander recalled what had transpired the night before; how he had comforted his ex-girlfriend as she'd cried a river of tears, blaming herself for the gang's apocalypse-sized troubles, before she'd finally drifted off to sleep.

_Come on in,_

_I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in,_

_I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones,_

_That I started looking for a warning sign._

Taking a deep breath, Xander couldn't help but to smile, marveling at just how pretty Cordelia looked even while she was sleeping. The way that pixie-like nose twitched slightly, how her eyes fluttered as she slept, how even that tangled mop of brunette hair all out-of-place on her head was endearing.

Of all the ways Xander had imagined waking up this morning after last night, the last thing he would have ventured to imagine was being here. Laying in his ex-girlfriend's bed, with said ex peacefully dreaming next to him, smelling of lavender, perfect lips close enough to…

...go to a place that Harris was not sure he wanted to go to yet.

_When the truth is,_

_I miss you_

_When the truth is _

_That I miss you so._

Xander knew he was still a mess, and not just physically. But he and Anya had begun to make some progress in the last few weeks; and a part of him felt as if he should fight to make that work. Make _them_ work.

Anya was such a big part of his life, after all. Ever since high school, she'd always been there. She'd loved him, had almost married him, had helped him to make the transition from a slacker teenager into a responsible adult. The sort of man who could be the pillar of the community, unlike his drunkard father and his loveable-yet-also-alcoholic Uncle Rory. Anya was still very special to Alexander Harris, and he knew she probably always would be.

And yet...and yet, last night had felt so…right, somehow.

How he could feel something so powerful, something that also felt so natural, for a woman whom he hadn't even spoken to in years - something just like when they were stealing kisses in high school broom closets - well, Xander just could not explain it, not even to himself. There was no rhyme or reason to it; it just was.

Groggily, Cordelia slowly came to, looking up into the bruised and oddly content face of Xander.

A confused look spread across her face. "Uh, what? Don't tell me I have bed hair?"

Chuckling, Xander shook his head. "Not a strand out of place, Cor," he said with a small, knowing smile.

_A warning sign,  
You came back to haunt me and I realized,  
she was an island and I passed you by,  
You were an island to discover._

A small laugh escaping her lips, Cordelia unleashed a slow, lazy smile before she yawned as she took in the sight of her ex-honey. "Liar, liar, construction worker for hire. But points for giving a girl her dignity. What are you doin' here, Xander? I thought you were going to go back to your own bed."

"Uh, yeah - guess I kinda got carried away with the whole Nightmare Watch thing," Xander sheepishly admitted. "Besides, after the Skip-sized beatdown I got last night, I wasn't in the mood for walking after I got a nice bed under me to fall into an injury-induced mini-coma."

Becoming more awake, Cordelia's hazel eyes scanned Xander's bruised face. "Are you okay? Are you still…"

"Bruised like a bad peach squashed by a bunch of better-looking peaches in a basket? You betcha," Xander smiled, making light of his injuries in his usual off-color manner.

Cordelia's hands flew to his face, checking the severity of the bruising. Unfortunately, he still looked pretty bad; but, thankfully, they were wounds that would eventually heal. Cordelia had come to know this after many nights playing nursemaid for Angel, Wesley, Gunn, and Fred post-demon fighting.

_Come on in,_

_I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in,_

_I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones,_

_That I started looking for a warning sign._

"You should have gone to a hospital last night like we told you to," Cordelia grumbled, though her tone was more worried than grumpy.

"Pass. I'm not heading off anywhere as long as there's an apocalypse still brewin', and Buffy still needs my help. Besides, not a big fan of hospitals," Xander said dismissively, though he took a certain relish in the feel of Cordy's soft, gentle hands on his face. "They smell all bleach-y. Plus, don't get me started on the food; and that's coming from a guy who once ate spiders!"

Off Cordelia's surprised face, Xander immediately clarified, "Uh, Dracula. Hypnosis. Long story. Trust me, _really_ not worth the trip down Memory Lane."

Deciding that she really didn't want to hear about THAT part of Xander's past, Cordelia got back on topic. "What about Willow ? A little hocus pocus could fix you right up -"

"Also not an option," Xander shook his head. "Willow's still toeing the line as far as the 'pocus' goes. The last thing anyone needs is for her to go all black-eyed 'Carrie' again by doing a little patch-up on the ol' Zeppo, here."

Cordelia's face fell at hearing that word, recalling just how she'd used that reference to the uncelebrated member of the legendary Marx Brothers comedy act; to poke fun at Xander's 'muggle' status within the Scooby Gang way back when. "About that…I know it might not mean a damn thing coming four years too late, but is there any chance of you letting me off the hook if I told you that I was a total bitch when I called you that?"

"Cordy, I've seen you in total bitch mode, and you weren't even close to that level of bitch-ocity during that particular day," Xander smirked. "More like…a quarter-bitch. Twenty-five point three percent bitchiness."

Cordelia smiled for a moment at his joke, before she grew serious. "Still…I'm sorry."

"For what? I've learned to love that nickname," Xander shrugged it off, still smiling that sloppy, goofy lopsided grin that Cordelia had come to know and love in the past. "You may have meant it as an insult, and Zeppo might not have been the headliner, but he still got to be on stage for the show. And besides, did you know he actually became a multi-millionaire through engineering?"

A soft, yet still bright grin came over Cordelia. "Really? I didn't know that."

"Gives a guy something to shoot for. And, hey, in a couple of years, I'm hoping to have my own construction company," Xander added. "I even thought of a catchy jingle - when the demons come a-knockin', Harris Construction comes a-fixin'." He made a face. "Okay, still needs work, but I'll get there. Grammar was never my thing, anyway."

Again, another chuckle escaped Cordelia's lips. Even with a face that looked like a smushed pumpkin, Xander could still be such a goofball, delivering his trademark lame humor and ill-timed jokes.

Cordelia hadn't realized how much she'd missed that. And yet despite the clown act, Harris still seemed to have grown up after Graduation. A steady job. Plans for the future. Someone who helped save the world once or twice a year. Even a fiancée at one point, even if that was something better ignored than focused upon as far as she was concerned.

The boy Miss Chase had once loved in high school had become a man, someone who could be counted on.

_When the truth is,_

_I miss you_

_When the truth is _

_That I miss you so._

Xander grew serious for a moment as he looked at Cordelia intently. "Good to see you laughing again. It's a good start for the healing process."

Cordelia's eyes fell as she took in that statement, a fresh rush of guilt roaring back into her.

Xander cursed himself for his lack of subtlety approaching such a delicate topic. "Um, can we just rewind that bit where my mouth just inhaled my left sneaker?"

"No, it's…it's okay," Cordelia shook her head as she looked away. "I'm gonna have to cross that bridge sooner or later, aren't I?"

"Cordy -"

"Xander," Cordelia cut off his protest, knowing full well that he was going to argue her innocence in the whole sordid matter. "Look, I'll be honest with you. I'm not okay with…with _everything_ that's happened. I don't know if I'm ever going to be okay again, actually. All I know for sure is that it did happen, and even though it feels…unbelievably painful…I'm just going to have to keep fighting the good fight. Angel needs me…the same way that Buffy and Willow need you."

Xander didn't really know what to say to that. But a part of him couldn't help but to agree with her.

He knew that Cordelia had an uphill battle facing her. Hurting your friends, nearly destroying the world…that was a tough thing to rebound from. Harris had seen how Willow had struggled to cope with the consequences of her actions after the black-haired, blue-veined craziness of last spring, and he had heard from his friends about how Angel had to face those inner demons all the time. Now, sadly, it was Cordy's turn to carry that weight.

_But she's not gonna carry it alone_, Xander swore to himself. _I'm gonna make sure of that._

"Whatever happens…I just want you to know that I've got your back on this," Xander said, his eyes full of reassurance as he reached out and softly gripped her shoulders. "Whatever you need, just ask. Seriously, I'm here for you."

The butterflies in Cordelia's stomach flapped wildly as she took in Xander's words, seemingly long forgotten feelings breaking through like weeds through the pavement of her heart. _I think he really means it. Oh, wow...talk about tempting...especially after what happened in here last night..._

Slowly reaching up, Cordy gave his right hand a gentle squeeze and smiled. "Thanks for caring…Nighthawk."

Xander's gaze displayed his surprise at hearing that old codename. He hadn't been called that in ages. Heck, he'd almost forgotten all about it...

Back in the summer before their senior year, during which a distraught Buffy had skipped town after sending an ensouled Angel to Hell, the Scoobies had taken to hunting the vampires in Sunnydale by themselves. It was Xander who'd suggested operating as a guerrilla-style unit, complete with walkie talkies, darker clothes and codenames. After all, someone had to do something, and for some reason it had seemed to make sense at the time.

Willow had taken the codename Glinda, Oz was known as Wolfman (both names self-explanatory), while Cordelia had taken the handle of Xena - Xander has teasingly offered the name 'Princess' at the time, but an irritated Cordelia, eager to prove her worth as a Scooby, had decided on a codename to show that she was both sexy and powerful - and Xander had chosen Nighthawk.

It had been a tribute to one of his favorite comic book characters, Nightwing, and, well, it just sounded so damn cool back then.

Xander wasn't sure if it was the way Cordy used his old codename from those days, or how incredible her smile looked, or if it was just the moment - the proximity of two old flames so close to one another - but somewhere deep inside of the guy, something…ignited. Or…reignited.

_Holy crap_, Xander thought to himself, abruptly recalling that tentative make-out session between them last night. _Why does it suddenly feel like that night with me and Willow during Homecoming, all those years ago? Come on, dude, get a grip!_

A delicious smell caught Cordelia's attention. "Wow…that does smell good down there. Guess it's time to grab a bite?"

Shaking himself out of his brief daze, Xander nodded. "Oh, yeah. Um…breakfast. Right. All those goodies, edible treats that…smell so good."

Brushing off his Xander-esque babble, Cordelia draped one of the wounded man's arms over her shoulders. "Come on. Time to get a move on, before those zit-faced Potentials you mentioned last night scarf down all the food."

Granted, Xander was feeling well enough to go up and down the stairs by himself, no aid necessary. But if Cordy was offering him a hand, the guy knew he'd be an idiot to pass up this opportunity to let the woman feel like she was helping again. To start burying the nightmare of the recent past, and feel like she was a genuine white hat again.

"Sure thing," Xander smiled, a little too chipper for a supposedly nearly-crippled man. "Just be careful, okay? I bruise easy."

"Oh, yeah, _this_ takes me back. Whine, whine, whine, that's all you ever do," Cordelia teased, though she shifted her weight to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. Unfortunately, in doing so, she accidentally stepped on Xander's undone shoelace, making him lose balance and fall backwards. Cordelia yelped in fright as she twisted her body to land on his chest as the two tumbled back onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Omigod, Xander, are you okay?" she asked fretfully.

After letting out a groan, Xander suddenly began to chuckle. Then giggle, and then he was laughing hysterically at the situation. _Oh man, I always wondered what it'd be like having Cordelia on top..._

"It's not funny!" an annoyed Cordelia swatted him on the chest, before his infectious laughter started to get to her, and she found herself laughing alongside him at the absurdity of the moment.

"Xander? Xander, are you in - oh my GOD!" rang out Anya's voice as she entered the room, her eyes wide in surprise, outrage and none-too-disguised jealousy.

Looking up in surprise, the smiles disappeared from both Cordelia and Xander's faces.

Xander's heart began hammering nervously as an odd sense of guilt overcame him. "Um, hey, Ahn! Uh, we-we were just -"

"What's going on here? Get off of him!" Anya all but shouted as she shoved Cordelia aside and hurriedly helped Xander off the bed.

Although she felt her inner hellcat hiss at being shoved aside so rudely, Cordelia held her tongue as she watched a dumbfounded Xander get propped up in his indignant ex-fiancée's grip, strangely feeling like a kid being caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

"Uh, I was just helping him up to go downstairs for breakfast," Cordelia explained, almost shyly, something completely uncharacteristic of her to Xander's ears.

"By jumping on top of him? Is that how you and your group do things around here?" Anya glared at Cordelia accusatorily. "He should be getting breakfast in bed, not being up and about after getting pummelled nearly to death - all because he was trying to save _you_."

A hurt look flashed in Cordelia's eyes at those words.

Xander immediately jumped to Cordelia's defense. "Anya, c'mon, you're overreacting. I'm fine, Cordy was just -"

"This is all your fault, you know!" Anya went on, as if not even hearing a word Harris had said. She was upset and her judgment wasn't the best right now, not after witnessing these two in what looked like a sexually suggestive situation. "You're the one who went and got all possessed and evil in the first place! If it wasn't for you, we'd be in Sunnydale right now protecting the world from the First Evil. We'd be protecting all those Potentials, a-a-and Xander wouldn't have gotten hurt last night! But instead, we're here in this God-forsaken city to help clean up your mess, and it nearly cost Xander his life! All thanks to him trying to save you from that idiot demon mercenary, who helped pull the wool over your eyes in the first place! Were you _trying _to get Xander killed, or what?"

It felt as though the air was punched out of Cordelia's lungs, as her mouth went dry and her eyes fell to the floor - the light having dimmed from them immediately, the warm, happy feeling she'd briefly had thanks to Xander's efforts last night and this morning crumbling and dissolving as fresh flares of guilt and pain consumed the Seer.

"_Anya, that's enough_!" a now-angry Xander snapped, as he broke off from Anya's side. "You apologize to Cordy for that, right now!"

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Cordelia waved him off, her eyes rapidly growing misty. "No, uh…it's…it's okay. I…I just remembered, I have to…"

With that, the brunette brushed past them as she took quick strides out of the room, knowing that her upcoming tears were inevitable.

"Cordy, don't go. No, wait!" Xander called out after her, but to no avail; his heart hurting from the pained look in Cordelia's eyes.

With a shake of his head, he turned back to Anya, his face set in an angry scowl. "Nice going, Anya. By the way, if the shopkeeper thing doesn't pan out now that the Magic Box is out of business? Here's something you can cross off the ol' potential careers list - suicide counsellor!"

"Well, it's all true, isn't it?" Anya protested. "Just last night, she was trying to kill us all; and now you go all Galahad on me when she makes the hurt puppy dog eyes after I call her out on it?"

"That wasn't her fault!" Xander instinctively snapped, growing annoyed with Anya's attitude. Harris then went deathly still for a moment, reminded of the bad old days when the exact same words had come out of Buffy's mouth, every time he had criticised her over her choice of boyfriend.

Every time he had failed to distinguish between Angel and Angelus, just like Anya was failing to distinguish between Cordelia and the Beastmaster right now.

_Dear, sweet mamalooshin. I'm not being that much of a hypocrite right now, am I? _Harris asked himself. _If I am...oh, Buffy, do I __**ever**__ owe you an apology!_

"Cordelia was possessed, and you know that," Xander said to Anya after taking a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. "Everything that those _things_ did to her while she was trapped in her own body, all the deaths, everyone that got hurt… you have no idea how hard she's taking this."

Anya shook her head, a knowing look in her brown eyes. "No, of course not. But equally of course, you do, right? Xander, don't think I haven't seen the way you've been acting since we arrived here in this damn hotel. It's been all 'Poor Cordy' this, and 'Poor Cordy' that. You've been mooning over her like a lovesick puppy since the moment we got here!"

"You're being ridiculous," Xander retorted; even though deep inside, he was wondering if there was any truth to those words.

A hurt look shone in Anya's eyes. "Omigod…you're fallen back in love with her, haven't you?"

"I'm not back in love with _anyone_, **_okay_**?" an exasperated Xander all but shouted. "I'm trying to help a friend. The same way I tried to help Willow when she got her 'Wicked Witch of the West' groove on. The same way I went to bat for _**you**_ when you were sic'ing demon spiders at dirtbag frat boys a few months ago! Cordelia's in trouble, and I'm trying to help her. That's it."

"_That's it_? You think I can't see what's going on?" Anya retorted heatedly. She had witnessed this scenario too many times over her millennium-plus-long lifespan as Anyanka, most feared of all of D'Hoffryn's vengeance demons. She had seen the way that Cordelia had looked at this guy last night after she was freed from the spell, and the way Xander had been staring at his ex-girlfriend all day yesterday. She knew all too well the classic signs of lust and desire between two people when she saw them.

"I'm not stupid, Xander. Deep down, you want her; it's a guy thing, I've seen it a million times - _**literally**_ - over the last 1120 years. And right now she wants you too, I can tell!" Anya said just as heatedly as before.

"Okay, Ahn...let's say that, just for the sake of argument, there's the slightest, remotest, almost _inconceivable_ chance that you're right. What of it?" Xander shot back, so much emotion coursing through him that it was making him sick. "Because we're not together anymore, remember? You made that pretty clear to me last year around the time you let Spike give you a quickie on the table in the Magic Box."

Anya flushed with embarrassment at that memory, before quickly recovering. "One, that was a drunken mistake which meant nothing, and two. that wouldn't have ever happened, if you hadn't left me at the altar on our wedding day!"

"Oh, _geez..._how many more times are we going to have to rehash all that, Ahn?" Xander asked, at the end of his wits and patience. "Almighty Zeus, I'm _sorry_. I apologized to you a thousand times for that, already; I'm sorry I hurt you that way, and I honestly don't think I'll ever forgive myself for it. But you know what? There comes a time when enough's enough, already. I'm not going to let you hold that particular mistake against me for the rest of my life - 'cause if there's one thing I've learned over the last 24 hours, it's that life's too short for that. So, my suggestion? Get over it, Anya. Because I'm _not_ going to apologize for that again."

With that, he hobbled out of the hotel suite in search of Cordelia, leaving a wounded and wide-eyed Anya in his wake.

The tears fell like rain down Cordelia's cheeks as she slid to the floor after closing the door to her old room - the one Xander had set up shop in with Gunn's help, just yesterday. Trying to keep the noise down, Cordelia's chest heaved with sobs as Anya's harsh words rang like a funeral gong in her brain.

_This is all your fault, you know…_

_You're the one who went and got all possessed and evil in the first place! _

_If it wasn't for you, we'd be in Sunnydale right now protecting the world from the First Evil. Xander wouldn't have gotten hurt!_

_But instead, we're here in this God-forsaken city to help clean up your mess, and it nearly cost Xander his life!_

_Were you __**trying**__ to get Xander killed, or what?_

Apart from that last crack, deep down, Cordelia knew that Anya was right. All of this madness was because of her. It didn't matter that Xander didn't see it that way; she knew, better than most people, how the dweeb had a bad habit of seeing only what he wanted to see.

Xander's blinkered world-view, plus his desire to help and protect the people he cared about, wouldn't let him see the truth. And the truth was simple - Cordelia Chase was responsible for her own actions. People were dead now because she had made the wrong choice once too often. The deaths, the pain, the suffering…they were all on her. Her friends and family could lie to her, but no matter how hard she wished it, Cordelia could not lie to herself.

"It's all my fault," Cordelia murmured to herself, her eyes squeezed shut as images of blood, pain and tears spiralled in her mind's eyes in a macabre whirlwind. "All my fault…all my fault…all my fault…"

A knock on her door distracted her from her thoughts. The Seer knew who it was even without opening the door, however.

"Go away, Xander," she ground out, though her voice sounded miserable.

"Cordy, please. I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure you're okay," his muffled voice came through the door.

"I'm fine. Just go back to bed or whatever, I'm sure Anya would love a chance to play nursemaid," Cordelia shot back with a bit of her old, cutting attitude, hoping that by wounding his pride Xander would leave her alone.

Unfortunately, Harris knew better than that. "One, the bed I was given in this place just so happens to be in there. And two, you're not gonna leave a sick man out here all alone, are you?"

Sighing in resignation, Cordelia opened the door to find Xander's bruised face looking so concerned for her.

Taking in the sight of her tear-stained face, Xander's gaze softened. "Cordy…"

Angrily swiping at the tears, Cordelia turned away from him. "I'm alright, don't worry about it."

"No, you're not," he shook his head. "Look, forget about what Anya said. Besides, she didn't really mean it; it's just that…well, these days I'm sort of a sensitive issue where she's concerned, what with our bad history and all. She got, like, ex-demon vibes or something about what was happening, when she walked into the room just now."

"She was right," Cordelia murmured softly, closing her eyes in pain.

Reaching out and turning her to him, Xander looked the woman in the eyes. "No, she wasn't. God damn it, Cordelia, we've been over this! Sure, you made some bad choices, but it was the Beastmaster and that…Jasmine thing who used you to kill all those people! I don't blame you, and nobody else does either…except for Anya, but whatever! Look, just take a minute, okay? Dry your eyes, and then let's go downstairs to scarf down as many bagels and orange juice as we can before Buffy and Faith eat us out of house and home."

"You go on ahead, alright? I…I don't exactly feel hungry anymore," Cordelia said in a small voice.

"Cordelia…you've gotta eat," Xander gently argued. "Starving yourself isn't going to help anyone, least of all you."

"Xander," the young woman's voice became more assertive now. "Please…I…I'm just not ready to face the others right now. And I really, really need you to let me win this one, okay?"

Despite the urge to yank her out the door or to play the invalid card again, one look at the sad, slightly fearful gaze in Cordelia's hazel eyes and Xander felt his resolve melt. He didn't want to be Pushy Guy on this. Cordelia had to be ready to face the others; and the last thing he wanted to do was to push her into something that she wasn't ready for.

"O…kay, then," Xander shrugged, smiling somewhat nervously. "Um…want me to bring you up a bagel and some OJ?"

"Coffee. Two sugars and half and half, if they have it…thank you," Cordelia replied, offering a small, but grateful smile.

"No problem," Xander smiled back, the two exes staring at each other for a long, painfully long moment; before Harris turned and headed out of the room, hobbling towards the stairs and leaving Cordelia alone with her tortured thoughts.

* * *

**Hyperion hotel **

**Later that evening**

* * *

The assembly of heroes had worked around the clock for most of the day, tracking down any leads on Jasmine. While Willow, Wesley, Giles, and Lindsey were experimenting with tweaking the locator spell necessary to find the missing PTB, Robin and Kennedy were downstairs training the Potentials in the _ad hoc_ workout area - while Faith, Spike, Connor, Darla and Dawn were elsewhere, dealing with the ramifications of Dawn's new powers. The others, meanwhile, had carefully monitored the police scanners for any unusual activity.

They weren't disappointed as the scanners picked up several seemingly random incidents of violence around the LA metro area, with witnesses describing a female with a deformed-looking face of some kind rampaging about. Strip malls, parking lots, a construction site, even a comic book store…each area reporting either critical injuries or homicides.

But each lead had ended the same way - by the time it took the white hats to head over to that location to verify if it was Jasmine, she was already long gone, leaving death and carnage in her wake.

Finally, Angel and Buffy had given up and called off the scouting parties, realizing that they had a better chance of finding Jasmine's exact whereabouts once the locator spell was done. Better to conserve resources than going on a wild goose chase for Jasmine all over one of the biggest cities in the world, after all.

Thanks to Kate calling in a few favors, several detectives who'd arrived at the crime scenes were able to slip her some blood samples of the victims found there - something that Willow had specifically requested her to obtain, if possible. Remembering the spell she had used to track down Warren last year, the redhead had quickly developed her method for how to locate Jasmine.

By the early hours of nightfall, just after the sun had gone down, the crew was more than a little exhausted, and the search for the rampaging PTB still unsuccessful.

Buffy sat opposite the wall with a map of Los Angeles, red tacks marking each suspected Jasmine sighting since this morning - while Angel stood almost directly in front of it, examining the trail.

Grimly, Angel realized that there was no discernible pattern to the PTB's attacks, aside from the fact that Jasmine generally seemed to be headed north. Whether it was for a specific reason, as if she was in search of something, or if she was just lashing out randomly at any target, he couldn't say.

Angel frowned as he studied the trail of red dots on the city's map yet again, searching for answers. "What are you up to?" he asked quietly, more to himself than anyone.

Her super-sensitive ears picking up his musings, Buffy sighed. "If you know the answer to that question, I've got a $64,000 check with your name on it."

Allowing himself a wry smile, Angel looked down towards the petite blonde. "Do you, now?"

"Actually, no. I don't even have $64,000 with _my_ name on it. You should see the collection agency notices that I'm still fending off," Buffy frowned.

Off the small chuckle he let out, Buffy's face was adorned with a small, but bright smile. "Knew I could get a laugh outta you."

"There hasn't been much to laugh about around here, lately," the undead detective mused with a breathless sigh. "I'm kinda surprised I actually remembered _how_ to laugh, it's been that long."

"Well, as I recall you were never really much for the ol' ha-ha stuff, anyway," Buffy shrugged. "I've been wondering whether I need a funny bone transplant, myself. With all the stuff on my plate lately, it's pretty easy to get lost in the grind."

"We just have to keep grinding, I guess," Angel said as he shook his head. He knew the drill by now. Get knocked down, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and come out swinging.

That was the way the world worked. Or rather, the way _his_ world worked.

Buffy looked up and saw how tired her ex-boyfriend's face looked. Even for an immortal permanently frozen in a handsome 26-year-old body, Angel had started to look - weathered. It was the stress, she knew that. His son, the apocalypse…even Cordelia's welfare, all of it was starting to take its toll on him.

That worried Buffy a lot. She, more than anyone, knew how that kind of stress was enough to drive someone crazy.

Gently, the Chosen One stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find her, Angel," Buffy assured him. "We'll find Jasmine, and we'll put a stop to all of this. And we'll do it together. All of us."

Angel's lips twitched in a half smile as his dark brown eyes lit up for a moment while looking down upon the Slayer.

"I know," he sighed again, before turning back to the map. "I just hope we can do it soon before she kills someone else."

Buffy's eyes wandered over the map again, taking in all the red marks - places where Jasmine had killed people. "I hope so, too."

As if to answer their hopes, Willow's voice rang out, "We got it!"

At once, everyone stopped their work or chatter and gathered around Willow, Giles, Wesley, Fred and Lindsey, who were hovering over a colorful map of LA. Only this map was marked with a blue glowing dot.

"Is that little blue nightlight thing the Power-That-Be-Outta-Her-Mind we're looking for?" Gunn asked.

"Indeed," Wesley replied. "Thanks to Willow's improvisation, the power of the Orb of Makai and the blood samples we were able to obtain from Kate's contacts, we've managed to override Jasmine's resistance to tracking spells and pinpointed a location."

"So, where is she?" Buffy asked.

"If I'm reading this correctly, uh, she-she's headed towards downtown Los Angeles," Giles replied. "She seems to be moving in a, uh, rather odd pattern. It would appear that she was headed north, and then doubled back."

"What's this thing doing?" Fred asked in puzzlement. "I mean, why would she just do an about-face like that?"

"PTS," Kate replied, drawing looks from the others.

Buffy frowned. "You mean that boring channel on TV that nobody watches?"

Kate blinked for a moment, not sure what to say to that, before she explained, "Uh, no, that's PBS. I'm talking about PTS, short for Post Traumatic Stress disorder. I used to see it in rape victims all the time, back when I was on the force."

Angel understood. "This thing's mind might be completely addled. The trauma of what's effectively a botched birth, her big plans having gone up in flames - all of that must be frying her senses."

Lorne gulped. "So, hold the phone - not only are we dealing with a P.O'ed goddess, we're dealing with a _crazy_ P.O'ed goddess?"

Xander shook his head. "Great, it's Glory all over again."

"Err, actually - I-I-I think it's worse than that," Giles said as he eyed the map with some trepidation. "Glory was insane, of course, but she was able to keep some level of self-control when she drained the energies of the human mind from her victims. From the reports we've been hearing, there's no indication that this 'Jasmine' entity is, is even remotely close to gaining any level of control over her mental faculties."

"Hence, the problem," Whistler jumped in as everyone turned to look at the messenger. "Even with most of her powers gone, a deranged PTB out gallivanting around in the City of Angels equals the morgue working overtime around these here parts."

"She's most likely just lashing out at anything and anyone," Wesley grimly stated. "There's no rhyme or reason to her actions now. And that puts the entire populace of the city at risk."

"Just Los Angeles? Try the world, Stubbles," Lindsey replied. "There's no weapon in existence - not a bullet or a bomb or even a goddamn virus - that could stop one of the Powers made flesh. And I should know - the Senior Partners have been looking for a way to do it for eons, according to the files."

"But I thought that 'Jasmine' lost her powers, all that mind control-y stuff," Willow said as she looked at Whistler.

"She has, Sabrina. I checked with the other PTBs via the Conduit earlier this morning, and that well's gone drier than a middle-aged chick with menopause," Whistler explained. "Trouble is, she's still got the shell. That means Jasmine's got all of the perks that come with a body of a goddess - super-strength, invulnerability, even enhanced speed."

Oz frowned. "Hmm. I guess there's still some pop left in that powder keg, after all."

"And with that kind of power, she could wipe out the whole planet," Buffy realized in shock.

"Okay, but here's where I get a little confused," Anya cut in. "I thought you guys said that Little Miss High and Mighty decided to deign us with her presence to try and save us lowly little humans from ourselves. So why would it turn around and decide to wipe us out completely?"

"Well, let's see. We killed its minions, caused her to get born via a mystical premature partial birth, ruined her big plans for world conquest...oh sure, why would _any_ supervillain hold a grudge about all that?" Cordy asked her matter-of-factly.

"Okay, not really caring too much about the 'why' right now. We need to find out where this thing is before someone else ends up dead," Angel said with a hard edge in his voice. The conversations and theories about Jasmine's actions could wait until later. The helpless victims that were at her mercy right now could not.

"She's headed towards the river. At her current course and speed, she should reach the Sixth Street Viaduct bridge in a half-hour," Wesley said, examining the map.

"So, uh, question. Say we get there on time for the big intercept - how do we even know who to look for?" Xander asked.

"_I_ know," Buffy said decisively. "Cordy, Darla and I saw her face last night. I know the witnesses are saying her face is deformed 'n all now, but still - it shouldn't be that difficult to spot her."

Gunn nodded, having heard all he needed to hear. "Alright, guess it's time to saddle up!"

As the others began to head towards the recently fixed weapons cabinet, Angel's voice stopped them. "No. You guys aren't coming."

Shock immediately hit everyone in the lobby.

"_What_?" Willow asked, puzzled.

"What are you talking about?" Gunn asked in disbelief.

"Angel, you can't go after Jasmine alone," Wesley sternly reminded him. "If she's as powerful as we believe her to be -"

"Then there's no way in hell that we're going to risk you guys getting caught in the crossfire," Buffy interrupted him as she stood by Angel.

"Remember what happened when we went up against the Beast? I figure this is going to be much, _much_ worse," Angel said flatly.

"Look, Angel and I worked it out, and we agreed that the time to pull our punches is over. That's why we're heading after Jasmine together. Alone," Buffy said to the group.

"But, but Buffy, you're gonna need help!" Willow protested. "You heard what Whistler said. You're going to have to throw everything and the kitchen sink at Jasmine to stop her, a-a-and even _that_ might not be enough!"

"Still can't risk it, Will," Buffy shook her head. "Don't forget - there's still the Potentials around here to worry about, and a lot can go wrong real fast in an all-out mob brawl. The less Angel and I have to worry about, the more effective we'll be."

"Best to come out swinging with our hardest punches," Angel added. "Buffy and I are the strongest fighters we have. If we don't succeed, at least there's still a witch, a Slayer, two Watchers, several trained fighters, another vampire and Connor around to throw at her later."

"Uh, gotta say - I don't like this, Angel-cake," Lorne shook his head. "I mean, no offense to you and the Buffster, here - but if an army can't stop this Jas-bitch, just how much better can the two of you alone fare?"

"All we can do is try, Lorne," Angel said with a resigned sigh. True, the undead hero wasn't crazy about this idea. In fact, facing off against Jasmine would probably be the end of him. But Angel knew that he had to do something_, without_ leading the rest of his people into a bloodbath.

Enough people had died and suffered lately, including those closest to him. He wasn't going to let some self-righteous ex-goddess destroy another single life. He'd die first.

Buffy felt the same. If what Skip had said about Jasmine's manipulation of all of their lives was true, then she was the reason why the last seven years of Buffy's life and the lives of her loved ones had turned into a living hell. And that meant that she and Buffy had some unfinished business.

There was a major score to settle. And Buffy intended to settle that score, even if it took her last breath. No one else was going to die because of Jasmine; the Slayer planned to see to that personally.

"Giles," she turned to her Watcher. "My cell will be on the whole night. Call me if there's an emergency. If we haven't checked in by midnight…I think it's gonna be safe for you to assume the worst. If that happens, tell Faith I said for her to take care of the Potentials from now on, and have her send someone to check out the situation in Sunnydale - God only knows what's been happening _there_ since yesterday. The last thing we need is the Hellmouth opening up, or something."

The former librarian looked troubled by her words, but nodded nonetheless. "Of course."

"Um, that thing about assuming the worst, it won't come to that…right?" Fred asked, her question to Angel both poignant and worrisome.

Angel turned a small, reassuring smile to Fred. "We hope not, anyway." Turning to Buffy, he said. "Let's go."

"We have to talk to Dawn and Connor first, remember?" Buffy asked him with an arched brow.

"Oh, yeah," Angel actually looked sheepish for a moment.

"Hold on a minute," Cordy called out, halting both of them. "I'm coming with you, on the Jasmine-hunt."

At that, Xander's head whipped around. "Whoa, _what_?"

Angel began to shake his head. "Cordy…"

"Yeah, y'know what? Save it, Angel," Cordy brushed him off as she walked towards the weapons cabinet and plucked out a battle axe. "I've got a major axe to grind with this thing…and hopefully, I'll be grinding it against her face."

Buffy immediately began to protest. "Cordelia, this is _way _too dangerous for you. You're only going to get hurt!"

"Hurt?" Cordelia bit out, furious anger beginning to flare in her eyes. "_HURT_? For months, I was a prisoner in my own body while some bitch from the Higher Wherever and its toadie killed innocent people, tormented my friends and tried to kill me! Believe me, I'm beyond hurt now. I'm pissed off, I've got an axe and I want blood. _Hers_!"

"Cordy, c'mon, think about this," Xander tried to reason with her, the thought of her rushing off to meet this unstoppable goddess terrifying him like nothing else. "If this thing is as badass as they say, and if Buffy and Angel don't have much hope of stopping it -"

"_I don't care_!" Cordy shouted, her beautiful hazel eyes narrowed into angry slits, tears threatening to spill. "Xander, you have _no idea_ what all that was like! You didn't feel what I was going through, what it was like for me to watch helplessly while she hurt the people I loved! She…"

Cordelia's voice wavered as she fought to hold it together. "She raped me. She raped my body, my soul, she took away my freedom of choice…she took everything from me. The things she did while inside of me, I will have to live with for the rest of my life. Every time I close my eyes, I can see it. I can't shut it out, I can't make it disappear, and I can't sweep it under the rug and pretend it didn't happen. It's _in_ me. All the time. That's what I have to live with now." She swallowed, bitterly. "Every time I close my eyes..."

Everyone was silent as they witnessed Cordelia's emotional outburst. Xander swallowed hard, his heart breaking for his ex-girlfriend. As he dwelled on her words of pain, a surge of anger flowed through his badly injured body at the thought of Jasmine.

The only thing that could match the anger Xander felt at this moment was when he had found out about Spike's near-rape of Buffy. Harris had never seen Jasmine's face, but he just wished that he was able to be fully up and about now, so he could take up Cordelia's fight for her and _do something_ to help ease that pain.

A pained look crossed Angel's face. He still blamed himself for all that, knowing that because of Lorne's memory spell which he had allowed to take place, Jasmine had been unleashed - even though none of them could have known that at the time.

His best friend, his Seer, had suffered horribly for that choice.

Still, that just strengthened Angel's resolve as anger flowed through him. Even though they had all suffered greatly because of Jasmine, no one on his team had suffered more than Cordelia. He, of all people, knew what it was like to suffer for the sins that another evil creature committed while in the driver's seat. It was just one more reason to find Jasmine and make her pay.

A look of understanding was reflected in the blue-green eyes of Buffy. She could understand what Cordelia felt, to some extent. All the destroyed lives, all of the guilt on her former Scooby teammate's conscience, even though it wasn't her fault - it still weighed upon her, because she felt like she did something to create it.

Oh, yes, Buffy knew what that was like - she had felt it with every life that Angelus had taken years ago in Sunnydale, after her night of passion with Angel had unleashed the evil, soulless demon within him. Even to this day, the blonde Slayer had never truly forgiven herself for hurting Angel - having to send him to Hell - and for all the people his demon had killed, all because of ignorance regarding that _damned_ gypsy curse.

With a sigh, she looked to Angel, who nodded heavily, before she turned to Cordelia. "You're right. All right, Cordy, you're in."

Nodding gratefully, Cordelia walked up the stairs to join the two warriors.

"Guys…just be careful, okay?" Xander said with a pleading note, his eyes specifically resting on Cordelia.

"We'll try," Buffy shrugged, as she, Angel and Cordelia left to find Dawn and Connor…Cordelia shooting one last, lingering look to her ex-boyfriend as she departed, much to Anya's annoyance.

Willow looked nervously to Giles and Wesley. "Uh, I don't mean to hit the panic button unnecessarily, but if that thing takes down Buffy and Angel - what exactly are we going to do?"

"Pray," Wesley grimly stated, his eyes looking back to the chequered map of Jasmine's murderous path. "Not to mention, find out where the devil Spike and Faith are right now..."

* * *

Angel's convertible flew down the streets as the trio of heroes made a beeline for the Sixth Street Viaduct. The farewell meeting with Dawn and Connor had gone about as well as could be expected - namely, not well at all.

Connor and Cordelia couldn't even bear to look at each other. Buffy and Dawn had gotten into an argument over why Big Sis wasn't taking Spike and Faith along, at the very least. And Angel didn't know what to say to his son about his new relationship with the Key - the ensouled vampire knew it was _way _too late for 'the birds and the bees' talk, after all.

"You sure this is the right way?" Buffy asked as she carefully held the map in place, trying to maintain her grip on it despite the whipping wind blowing with the top down.

"It's a shortcut," Angel replied, his eyes staring firmly ahead on the road. "Shaves about ten minutes off the drive."

"This whole thing of you driving still takes some getting used to," Buffy said. "Up until recently, I didn't think you travelled anywhere outside of walking…or lurking."

"Walking doesn't get you many places around LA," Angel replied. "And I can't exactly fight crime with a bus pass." He frowned. "Well, I suppose I could, but it would just be…cheap."

Buffy chuckled, pleasantly surprised. She was still getting used to this new Angel. He had a car. Friends. A detective agency. A son. Even a sense of humour. He had changed so much over the years, ever since Sunnydale. Buffy would have wondered if those changes had meant a change in how he felt about her - but after his declaration of love last night, the normally insecure parts of her sighed in contentment at the thought of how the more Angel changed, the more he was still the same.

He still liked black. He was still brave and strong and noble and heroic. He was still master of the Art of the Brood. _And he still loves me_, a part of her heart sang.

However, Buffy knew that it wasn't as simple as that. While her feelings for Angel had never changed over the years, her feelings for Spike had - as had Angel's feelings for Cordelia. Buffy knew that very soon, she would have to have a talk with Spike about where they stood. It wouldn't be fair to Angel or to Spike to keep that issue afloat for much longer.

A look in the rear view mirror suddenly reminded Buffy that they weren't alone. A grim-faced, stony Cordelia was staring outside the convertible, tightly gripping the battle axe she'd picked as a weapon.

Buffy had never seen Cordelia look so serious, or angry. She understood why, though. Buffy could only try to imagine what was going on inside the Seer's mind right now.

Her time with Angel had let her see the kind of anguish and sadness that such remorse over one's past could bring. It was enough to change a person completely. And while Cordelia and she weren't close, Buffy would never have wished the kind of suffering Angel had gone through - still went through - on the brunette.

Despite whatever the Chase woman might have thought of her, deep down, Buffy still considered Cordelia to be a friend…sort of.

"Cordy, you okay back there?" Buffy asked, genuinely concerned.

"Fine," the brunette curtly replied.

Buffy pressed her lips together in concern. "You know, uh…nobody blames you for…for what happened. What Jasmine did…we all know that it wasn't -"

"Buffy, will you please just spare me the pointless 'it wasn't you' speech?" Cordelia cut her off, her eyes visibly hardening in the rear view mirror. "It's starting to sound like a bad breakup line. And I don't need your pity, _okay_?"

Taken aback by Cordy's snappish answer, Buffy backed off, muttering, "Fine. Sorry…I was just trying to help."

Cordelia, feeling immediately ashamed, softened her glare. "Oh, God…I'm sorry, Buffy, I…I guess I'm just -"

"I know," Buffy said sincerely. "Don't worry about it."

A concerned Angel looked into his Seer's eyes from his rear view mirror. "We're going to find her, Cordy. We'll find Jasmine and take care of her, once and for all."

Despite the assurances of Angel, the troubled look still did not leave Cordelia's face. Angel wished that he could say something, _anything_, to bring some level of peace to her. He knew, however, that such a thing was not possible.

To accept the forgiveness of her family and friends, Cordelia would first have to start forgiving herself. And Angel knew, better than anyone, just how long that could take without help. He knew the guilt, the pain that came with unfathomable remorse knowing that others had died by one's own hand, because of something else that had taken control.

He had spent a century, a lifetime, coping with all of Angelus's crimes, all the lives he had ruined and destroyed. He wouldn't wish that kind of torment on his worst enemy…the thought that Cordelia, who meant the world to him, would now have to live with that anguish for the rest of her life broke his heart.

Cordelia closed her eyes as she leaned back into the seat for a moment. She hated feeling like this; hated this guilt, this pain that clawed at her heart. She would give everything she had right now to go back to the way she once was; happy and full of purpose and drive, knowing that she made a difference…knowing that she was one of the good guys.

But every moment that passed, she saw Lilah's dead face, heard the surprised gasp that Manny released before she'd hacked his head apart with a meat cleaver, remembered the look of horror on that little boy's face before she'd crushed his skull with a candlestick holder after stabbing his Svear priestess mother and father to death right in front of him.

Their faces, their screams haunted her, and deep down, Cordelia was wondering if she would _ever_ know true peace again…

But then she smiled for a moment, when she thought of the closest thing she'd had to peace as of late…waking up in Xander's arms this morning. That had been something she definitely hadn't expected.

The young woman had thought she was long since over that guy, of course; it had been four years since she'd last seen him, even longer since they'd dated. But that old spark, that familiar, irresistible magnetism between them had been present all day, until the man's face had plagued her thoughts almost as much as her perceived crimes did. But it had helped knowing that Xander was content simply to be there for her, that he didn't judge her, that he didn't want her to open up or come out of her shell or whatever the pop-psych bullshit phrase nowadays was.

No wonder she had kissed him last night, come to think of it. It would have been almost perfect, if not for the blow-up with Anya…not to mention the scalding words the former vengeance demon had let out that had contributed to Cordelia's current mental state.

Her musings were disrupted as Cordelia suddenly saw a familiar-looking figure off in the distance, just as Angel's GTX reached the bridge...a figure surrounded by overturned cars, panicked people running for their lives amidst general panic and mayhem.

Buffy and Angel stared wide-eyed at the scene as the car came to a stop just to the side of the bridge, Angel's eyes trained on the tall African-American woman in the center of the carnage.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here, and guess that _that's_ Jasmine?" Angel guessed.

Warily, Buffy nodded. "That's Jasmine."

Breathing hard, her nostrils flaring with heated breaths, Cordelia angrily eyed the fallen Power with contempt and vengeful fury. _There you are..._

Buffy reached for her sword. "Any ideas on how we should play this?"

"We go in slowly, use the element of surprise to our advantage," Angel replied, his mind quickly laying out several scenarios for attack. "Our best bet is to try to catch her off-guard, without attracting too much attention to ourselves -"

"Screw that," Cordelia impatiently huffed, grabbing her axe and hastily exiting the vehicle.

Angel's palm flew to his face in annoyance. "Or, we could just charge in and get the crap kicked out of us," he muttered. "Damn it. I _knew_ we shouldn't have brought Cordy along for this!"

With a resigned sigh, Buffy shook her head and quickly leapt out of the vehicle. While she too would have preferred to have stealth on her side, it didn't appear to be an option now. Either way, there was going to be a fight, and she was ready to rumble.

"Cordelia, slow down!" Buffy called out in a tense, yet hushed voice, Angel following close behind. "You don't want to give us away!"

Paying no attention to the Slayer, Cordelia shouted out to the angry ex-goddess. "Hey, Maggot Girl!"

Whirling around, a raging Jasmine turned angry eyes towards the trio.

"That's right, I'm talking to you - you overgrown bedbug!" Cordelia angrily continued her rant.

Jasmine shook her head, almost sardonically. "Perfect. Just exactly the last people I wanted to see. My 'mother'…"

Turning to Buffy, she added, "The little girl who meddled with my plans…"

Then Jasmine turned to Angel. "And you, the vampire who found my true name and ruined everything. So, we meet at last."

"Yeah, believe me, the displeasure's all mine," Angel coldly retorted, clutching his broadsword tightly. "It's over, Jasmine. Your insanity ends here."

"Give it up, Jasmine. You've lost," Buffy declared, her eyes hardening as she readied herself for combat and Angel stepped in front of his Seer.

Jasmine scoffed, incredulous at what she was hearing. "_I've_ lost? Do you three have _any_ idea what you all have done?"

"What we had to do," Angel replied, his voice righteous.

Jasmine shook her head, infuriated at his short-sightedness. How could he not see the beauty, the purpose behind what she had planned? "No! No, Angel, there are no absolutes, no right and wrong. Haven't you learned _anything_ working for the Powers?"

The fallen Power turned milky, sickly eyes towards Buffy. "There are only choices. I offered you paradise, I offered you a world full of peace, full of opportunities, full of light and hope..."

Gesturing to the carnage around the bridge, Jasmine shouted, "But, instead, _you_ chose _this_! WHY?"

"Because I _could_," Buffy replied with resolve. "Because that's what you would have taken away from us, isn't it? Choice. That mind-control power you had - that's how you would have brought about world peace, right? By bending everyone on earth to your will, until the only thought they had would be to worship you…like a god."

"It'd be pretty easy to stop fighting with everyone so busy catering to your every whim and desire, wouldn't it?" Angel added, accusingly. "No free will, no choice - just mindless slaves waiting around for another order."

"If that's your idea on how to bring about world peace, then, sorry, no thanks, that sounds totally skippable to me," Buffy said in no uncertain terms.

"Oh, yes. Because humanity has done _so well_ with free will, hasn't it?" Jasmine angrily spat, scorn and disdain smoldering in her dull white eyes. "For millions of years, ever since your race evolved out of the ooze beneath the ground we once walked, I've watched humanity attempt to destroy themselves through war, murder, and senseless violence. You creatures have the same will that only the Powers That Be had, and how did you use that gift? To make weapons, to steal, kill, cheat, hurt one another and the world around you! You poison the very air I used to breathe, you pollute the same sky I used to admire in wonder every single night eons ago. _That_ is what free will has gotten you!"

"Hey, listen, lady - I didn't say we were smart," Buffy shot back. "I just said that it's our right. We might not make the right choices all the time, hell, not even most of the time, but I'd rather make the wrong choices on my own than have anyone decide my life for me and take away my right to choose."

"That's what makes us who we are; it's the only way we can learn in life. By skinning our knees, falling down and learning to get back up, learning from our mistakes. It's what makes us human," Angel said earnestly as he backed up Buffy's argument.

Angrily, Jasmine eyed Angel. "You imbecile. You're not _human_!" Turning to Buffy, she added, "And neither are you, not really - just like ever other Slayer before you, and the two others that came after you!"

As Buffy angrily stared down Jasmine, she could have sworn that she heard Angel mutter, "Working on it."

That brief sentence drew a confused frown from her as Buffy turned questioning eyes to Angel. The vampire, however, only had eyes for their unstable foe.

With a derisive chuckle, Jasmine waved them off as she turned and began to stalk away. "Go away. I have things to do."

Immediately, the three heroes began to follow. "What things? Killing _more_ people? Hey, just where the hell do you think _you're_ going?" Buffy demanded.

"I said, leave me alone," Jasmine brushed her off as she kept walking, sounding more like a petulant child at the moment than a raging force of nature.

Angel shook his head. "Yeah, sorry, but we can't do that. Doesn't work that way."

"What? You've already ruined everything, all of you…what else do you want, to kill me now? As if you could," Jasmine rolled her eyes, dismissively.

"Maybe not, but it kinda goes with the gig for us good guys. Sacred duty, protect the world, yada-yada-yada, read the brochure," Buffy snarked before she squared her shoulders. "Look, Jasmine, if you think we're just going to keep letting you walk around turning the rest of this city into a bloody promenade...well, then, honey, you've got another thing coming."

"You have no idea what you're doing, little girl," Jasmine threatened.

"You're not the first goddess who ever told me that," Buffy smirked, brandishing her sword. "And I assume you know how all that worked out for her."

"You'll find me a much more formidable opponent than Glorificus, I can assure you. You're picking a fight that you can't win," the fallen Power warned the blonde Slayer.

"Maybe…but I'll die before I let you hurt anyone else," Angel declared, shielding Cordelia behind him while flanking Buffy's right side.

"You're _already_ dead!" Jasmine cried out as she released an incredulous chuckle.

Angel was rapidly getting annoyed. He hadn't come here to banter with this thing; he'd come here to get rid of it once and for all. "You know what I mean. It all ends here. Now."

Taking that as a signal, Buffy nodded to a determined looking Cordelia, both females raising their weapons in preparation for combat.

Buffy's muscles tensed as her pulse quickened, her eyes honed in on Jasmine. _Well, here goes…everything…_

To their surprise, instead of lashing out or attacking them, Jasmine's eyes welled with tears as she began to cry.

Buffy and Angel looked at each other in shock. Through the years, their enemies had done a lot of things before and during a battle…but crying was definitely not on that list.

Jasmine's milky irises were watery as she sobbed, "Why do you hate me so much?"

Taken aback by the question, Buffy wasn't so sure what to say for a moment, while Cordelia gaped in outrage.

Angel, however, had a laundry list of things to get off his chest as he angrily began ticking each of Jasmine's crimes with his fingers. "Gee, where do we start? Rain of Fire, blocking out the sun, sic'ing the Beast on my crew, stealing my soul, trying to enslave mankind, nearly killing Cordy, Darla and Buffy, manipulating my son, and hey, oh, that's right…you've killed dozens of people in the last few hours!"

Jasmine merely scoffed at the undead Champion. "Like you've never killed anyone before? Don't throw stones if you sleep in a glass coffin, _Angelus_."

Angel's lips narrowed into a thin line as he glowered at her, yet stayed silent.

"_Angel_," Buffy cut in, her eyes hard and her tone harsh. "His name is Angel. Got that, Larvae Gal? And, furthermore, whatever his psycho other half did in the past pretty much pales in comparison to what you -"

"How easily they forget," Jasmine shook her head, interrupting her. "You think Angel and Angelus are so separate? You really think the soul makes that much of a difference? Because your lover has taken human life with his soul intact, little girl, a certain incident aboard a submarine sixty years ago comes to mind..."

"I don't care," Buffy shot back, even though she couldn't help wondering what exactly Jasmine was talking about - especially given the shocked look on Angel's face. "Thousands of people are dead because of what you've done, Jasmine."

"And how many _more_ will die _now _because of you and your friends?" the creature walked closer to the trio, each of whom tensed for battle, although the fallen Power simply continued to plead her case. "I could've stopped it. All of it! War, disease, poverty…every last wretched drop of suffering. Children would have grown up healthy and strong, with families full of love and harmony. Peace spreading around the world like a wondrous, precious sea wave. How many precious, beautiful lives would've been saved in only a handful of years? Yes, I murdered thousands…to save _billions_."

"What about all of the lives that you destroyed along the way to getting what you wanted?" Angel demanded, his eyes offering no hint of mercy. He was sick and tired of him, his family and the lives of so many innocents being treated like no more than just pawns on a cosmic chessboard. "Are you saying their lives were less precious than the people you claimed you wanted to save? Who the hell gave you the right to decide who lives and dies?"

"_I_ did! I'm not human, vampire - so don't try to treat me as one!" Jasmine angrily declared. "I did what I did because _someone_ had to! I was trying to _save_ this world!"

"No. You were trying to _rule_ it," Buffy countered, just as heatedly. "And you weren't going to let anything stop you. You think we don't get it? It didn't matter to you whose lives you wrecked, or who you killed. There's nothing selfless about that…it's just ruthless. And sick. And evil. You so-called gods and higher powers are all the same; you're a bunch of selfish dirt-bags who don't care about anyone but yourselves!"

Jasmine's face contorted in anger as she saw the meaning behind those words. "I am nothing like Glorificus!"

"I know. You're _worse_," Buffy shot back, her fists balled in anger. This _thing_ was not going to get any sympathy from her. "Glory was an insane maniac and an evil bitch, but you know what? At least _she_ never pretended to be anything else. She was a hellgod, it woulda been crazy of us to expect her to act any other way. But _you_, Jasmine? A higher power? One of the Powers That freakin' _Be_? For you to fall so far and act so low, to betray everything you're supposed to stand for…that's what makes you a _monster_!"

"I will _not_ be spoken to in this way by a _mortal_!" Jasmine thundered.

"Then maybe you'll be a little more willing to listen to _me_!" Cordelia spoke up as she stepped in front of Jasmine.

Angel, feeling uneasy about having Cordelia so close to this dangerous _thing_, tried to pull her back behind him. "Cordy -"

"Shut up, Angel!" Cordelia snapped as she swatted Angel's hand away, before she turned her heated glare to Jasmine. There was no doubt the young woman was barely holding herself back from going postal on Jasmine's ass, and that her self-control wouldn't last much longer…

"You have no idea…NO IDEA…what kind of damage you've caused. And it's not just the people you and the Beastmaster killed, no - I'm talking about my _family_! I'm talking about Angel, and Connor, and Wesley, and Fred, and Gunn, and Lorne. I'm talking about my friends in Sunnydale, how you played with and _manipulated _their lives like we were just toys at your disposal! And yeah, I'm talking about _me_! Everything I went through, since the day Buffy showed up in Sunnydale! You took everything that ever mattered to me and you tarnished it, you ruined it, you made it a sick joke!"

Jasmine's eyes softened. "Cordelia, please try to understand…I was trying to make this world a better place. I needed your body, and I needed a unique and beautiful soul to give birth to myself -"

"YOU VIOLATED ME, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Cordelia screamed, her hazel eyes filling with angry tears as she shook. "I was either going to die or end up a vegetable, after you were done with me! You crawled inside me, used me up and you took everything! And the worst part of it was that I felt it! I experienced every single horrible thing that you and the Beastmaster did, every drop of blood you spilled using _my_ hands, every lie you hurt my friends with using _my_ voice, _my_ lips..."

Cordelia's body was literally shaking. "It's all I can think about, it's eating me up inside! You can try to justify yourself to everyone else, but not to me. You were going to use me and then just throw me away like I was trash or something, you ugly monster, like I was nothing? Well, newsflash - I. AM. NOT. _**NOTHING**_! You destroyed my life, Jasmine, and I swear on everything I've ever loved, that I'm gonna make you _**PAY**_!"

With that, Cordelia raised her axe, coming forward and intending to slice through the so-called goddess's neck…

…when suddenly, Jasmine retreated fearfully, backing away from Cordelia as if she were a leper, tripping over her own feet as she stumbled to the ground.

Swiftly, Angel grabbed Cordelia's hand, stopping her in her tracks. He didn't know what was going on, if the look of fear on Jasmine's face was merely a feint of some kind - but just in case, it would be best to play it safe for now.

Oddly, it didn't enter into Angel's undead mind that Cordelia, as Jasmine's 'mother', might actually be able to hurt and/or kill the fallen Power even if he and Buffy couldn't.

Immediately, Cordelia squirmed and fought in his grip. "Let me go! Angel! Get off of me, LET. ME. GO!"

"No," Angel said, his voice both hard with grit yet soft with understanding. "She's hurt you long enough, I'm not going to risk her killing you. Please, Cordy…"

"I hate her! I HATE HER!" Cordelia screamed and railed, even as Angel pressed her close to him in a hug, holding the Seer until she dissolved into tears, crying on his shoulder. "I hate her…"

Ignoring the ill-timed spurt of jealousy that kicked at her gut, Buffy shook her head in sympathy for Cordelia's pain. _Oh, God…poor Cordy. She looks so broken…_

Eyeing Jasmine on the ground, Buffy realized something. "Y'know, for someone who's all with the boasting about being invulnerable 'n all, you sure backed away from that little ol' axe in a hurry, didn't you?"

Jasmine glared at her balefully, but said nothing.

"Oh yeah, I get it now. It's got something to do with Cordelia, doesn't it?" Buffy pressed. "Makes sense, I guess - you used her body to make the one you're using right now. Okay, 'fess up! Before I let Cordy loose on your ass, and we see just what happens to you!"

"Fine," Jasmine spat defiantly. "Yes…it does have something to do with Cordelia. She and Connor are my tether to this world. The toys you brought wouldn't be enough to stop me…but if either of my parents were to strike me down…well, I couldn't defend myself against them."

As Angel loosened his grip on Cordelia, he realized just what Jasmine was talking about. "You're saying...that Cordelia and Connor are the only things in this world that can kill you."

Jasmine's eyes lowered. "Yes."

It took Cordelia all of one second to process this before she picked up the axe and tried to lunge towards Jasmine's prone form, before Buffy held her back.

"Cordy," she gently said. "Hang on a sec."

"Why?" Cordelia asked, baffled. "We came here to kill this thing, didn't we? So, back off and let me finish this! I'm the only one here who can do it..."

"Yeah, we all heard what she said, but…something's not right here," Buffy said, sensing that there was more to this puzzle that didn't add up yet; for example, what exactly the First Evil's role in all this was. So Buffy took a few tentative steps towards Jasmine, kneeling down next to her.

"Buffy," Angel warned, not liking her close proximity to Jasmine.

"Angel, it's okay," Buffy replied, before she turned to the black woman. "Your powers…whatever you have left…can you read minds?"

"Why would that matter?" Jasmine asked, confused and irritated.

"Can the attitude! Now, can you read my thoughts or not?" Buffy snapped.

After a beat, Jasmine relented. "Yes…but only through contact with your blood. The memories are there, within it. That's part of your legacy from the first Slayer, as a matter of fact, the reason why the Chosen always dream of their predecessors at first."

Buffy nodded. "Good." With that, she took her sword, and slowly drew it across her palm, drawing a straight line of crimson. "I tried to tell you before, Jasmine, but you wouldn't listen. But maybe now, you can finally see the truth. See what you were _really_ brought to Earth for. But I've gotta warn you - the truth hurts."

Eyeing the Slayer suspiciously, yet intrigued by her cryptic words, Jasmine slowly reached her hand out and touched the bloody line on Buffy's hand. Immediately, the images of Whistler and Lindsey and the sound of their voices began to tumble around in her mind…

_This nameless Power hasn't got clue-one about it, but…the other Powers figured out that it was being p__layed, all along. By the First…_

_This Power was making some big-time moves, but meanwhile, the First Evil was making moves of its own. From eons back. It sent in a kind of…parasite, to infiltrate the Higher Planes…_

_Eventually, they got tired of floating above all life without actually living, they yearned to experience the mortal realm for themselves…_

_The First knew about that, and played on that…_

_Made a deal with them, a couple eons ago __- to start manipulating this Power, whisper in its ear, urge it to change the world instead of just letting things play out. Start setting the stage for the First's big corporeal debut on Earth…_

_In exchange, they could keep Cordelia's body, the First would get the Power's new flesh-y threads, everybody wins - except the humans and all of existence, of course…_

Gasping, Jasmine recoiled in horror, as the awful truth of how she'd been deceived for such a foul purpose was revealed.

"No," Jasmine uttered, her eyes staring away in forlorn shock. "Oh, no, no, no…what have I done? _What have I done_?"

For a moment, Buffy almost pitied the creature alongside her as she saw the tears flow down Jasmine's face. She truly had had no idea that she was being played with, right from the start.

Still, none of that excused all the horrors that Jasmine committed, so pity never actually came into consideration here and now.

"I told you…you've been played," Buffy answered the rhetorical question. "There's a lot that you have to answer for, Jasmine. But if you want to start making amends…well, you can start by telling us what you know about the First Evil."

"How do we stop it?" Angel asked, his voice probing. "There has to be _something_ you know that can help us defeat it. The whole world's at risk, and if you love it as much as you claim, then you'll help us to protect it from the First."

"You can't…you don't understand. You can't win," the fallen Power shook her head. "You can't win against the First."

"Why not?" Angel demanded. "Everything has a weakness, nothing is invincible. Not even the First, otherwise it would have taken over the world a long time ago. Help us, damn it!"

"I _told_ you, you can't _**do **_it! _No one can_!" Jasmine wailed. "I was the only one who could have banished it from this plane, if my plan had come to fruition. That was the whole point of…but it's too late now."

Buffy shook her head. "No. I don't believe that, there's always a way. You have to know something that we can use, right? Come on, I'm willing to take anything right now!"

Cordelia frowned as she turned around Jasmine's words in her mind. For the moment, she was able to put the loathing and bloodlust to one side as she asked, "What was the whole point?"

Angel turned to Cordelia, puzzled. "What?"

The brunette continued to talk to Jasmine, though, angrily snapping her fingers. "Hey! Mommy's talking here, _bitch_! You just said your plan had a whole point. Was it to stop the First? Was _that_ this 'whole point' you were yammering about?"

Jasmine looked down, which let Buffy know that they were onto something. "Jasmine?"

The ex-goddess sighed, looking down in misery. "Yes. Apart from bringing my love to this entire world, I would have also banished all the hate within it. All the...evil. That would have erased the First Evil from existence, for all time."

Angel's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of this. "Why? Apart from taking out the enemy, I mean. Why would someone like you actually care about destroying the First?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Jasmine muttered.

"The hell it doesn't!" Buffy snapped. "A lot of people are going to die if we don't stop the First's rampage. Including all the Potential Slayers left in the world! So tell me the _real_ reason why you wanted to destroy it. You can help us. Talk, damn it!"

"Because I _created_ it, alright?" Jasmine shouted suddenly in defiance. "The First exists because of me! Despite its propaganda that it's always existed, and will always exist…both I and the rest of the Powers That Be are the reason why the First Evil exists in the first place!"

The shocked and thunderstruck faces on the looks of the three heroes spoke more than words could say.

A stunned Buffy finally managed to quietly utter, "Okay…gotta admit. Didn't see that one coming."

* * *

**TBC…**

* * *

**Next: Jasmine reveals the true history of the First Evil to a stunned Angel, Buffy and Cordelia…a history which gives insight to the real-and horrifying-ultimate goal of the First.**

**Spike and Faith. A bar. Drinks. Dancing. (Yup, a recipe for trouble, but oh, so much fun!)**

**And the First and its new minions get set to make their move…one with deadly repercussions.**

Well, that's all for now. Update to come soon, same Angel time, same Buffy channel!

Take care, Spike Your Hair! (and a big internet hi-five from me to you if you get that reference!)

-Jean-theGuardian


	25. Part 23 We're In This Together Now

**A/N: **Happy Holidays, everybody!

Big ups to the one and only Starway Man, my brotha from anotha mutha, for his fabulous BETA editing skills. Theo, you are the man!

Special shout out to all those who reviewed, especially Nilya2397, ShayleeAlf, wingster55 (My new Broski of the Month! Lol), Lily Emerald, BrucasBangelBrylan, BloodyTink, teamtiva, ashes at midnight, Geoff, Angellufy, DarkVizard447, xxdawnbreakerxx, angelplusbuffyequalsforever, Megagalvatron12 and David Fishwick. You're all AWESOME!

In case you don't notice when you read further down, I've been kinda inspired by the trailer for the upcoming 'The Avengers' film, directed by the AllFather himself, Joss Whedon. Good Luck, Joss, I know you can make that film epic. In theaters May 4, 2012. AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!

Well, we are officially at the halfway point for this story. Took about 8 years to get there, but still, woo-hoo! I'm at a new job, though, and it's pretty hectic, so updates might take some time. Still, I think this can tide you guys over at least through the holiday until I can finish the next chapter (And believe me, it's gonna be a major turning point in this story.)

More on the way, soon, broski's, but in the meantime, enjoy the holiday season, get some hot chocolate, warm up your cookies and hang onto your hats, because it's time for the latest chapter of…

**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 23 – We're In This Together**

* * *

**Shadow Valley Vineyard - Sunnydale**

**Earlier that day**

* * *

Behind every good villain (now there was an oxymoron if there ever was one) there usually lay a solid crew.

Well, granted, the First Evil knew that the term 'solid' for this particular macabre and motley crew was a…a bit of a stretch.

In the form of Buffy Summers, the First sent a sweeping look over its newly assembled team: the skinless Warren Mears, the wicked witch Amy Madison, the mad vampire Drusilla and one of its biggest aces in the hole - the newly resurrected Beast.

"Felicitations, fellow malefactors!" the First/Buffy crowed, before shrugging dispassionately. "Or something like that."

Warren squinted skeptically. "So, let me get this straight - you can take on the form of anyone you want, and yet you choose to look like that bitch, Buffy Summers?"

"Not just anyone, dummy - I can only take the form of those who've died. Temporarily or otherwise. Figured I'd use a form that can motivate most of you," the First casually replied, before frowning at one noticeable oddity in Warren's fleshless appearance - the peculiar presence of pants.

"By the way, does wearing that hurt? You know, with the you-being-skinless and all?" the faux-blonde asked innocently as she gestured at Warren's trousers.

Warren and Amy turned to each other for a moment, shrugging, before Warren returned his gaze to the First. "It chafes a little. But, hey, it beats going around with Warren Jr. flapping in the breeze; just because I have no skin doesn't mean I have no manners."

"What a gentleman," Buffy/the First deadpanned in a flat voice before it began addressing the rest of its Rogues Gallery. "Most of you have come to know…and loathe…this pretty little face fairly well."

To Drusilla. "She ripped your little Manson family apart."

To Amy. "Her friends humbled and humiliated you…"

To Warren. "She emasculated you, while her little witch friend disfigured you."

Turning to the eerily quiet Beast. "And her ex-boy toy…"

The First abruptly morphed into the image of a smirking Angel - no, Angelus - and said, "Stabbed you in the back and left you as a pile of rubble."

The monstrous horned demon growled as it narrowed its baleful yellow eyes at Angelus/the First. It had barely been a day since the ultimate evil that had originally been expelled from 'Jasmine' had breathed new life into the Beast, and yet all the rocky demon could think about was Angelus - how that damned vampire had fooled him, taken advantage of his distraction when he was beating that dark-haired Slayer half to death, all to plunge a knife made of its own bones into his back. The Beast remembered the searing pain, the life force literally exploding out of him, and then…nothing.

Total and utter oblivion.

Until the First had gathered his essence from the void and made him whole again. Whole, powerful and with one sole purpose running through his mind - to find, dismember and kill his undead nemesis once and for all.

Drusilla eyed the ghostly form of Angel with a dreamy stare. "Daddy," she whispered softly.

Even Amy cocked an eyebrow, a hungry smile playing on her lips. "So who's the gorgeous side order of beefcake you're masquerading as?"

A jealous Warren scoffed, eying Angelus/the First disdainfully. "Oh, puh-lease. What's that guy got that I haven't?"

Amy wickedly smiled. "Well, for starters…a face."

Warren glowered at his girlfriend. "You are really asking for it, you know that, Amy?"

"Ooh, I'm shaking. What are you gonna do, bore me to death with another rousing one-hour speech about the legacy of Star Trek?" the witch riposted.

"Don't tempt me…" The diabolical couple shot dirty looks at one another.

Drusilla suddenly eyed Warren with a hungry look in her eyes. No, not that hungry look - the other one, the 'eying a delicious meal' look.

"I like the fleshy one," she smiled sinisterly as Dru morphed into her vampire face. "He smells like meat…all hot and sticky like bangers. Does your blood taste as good, little meat man?"

Creeped out, Warren immediately backed away from the insane vampiress. Reflexively, Amy extended her right hand, now crackling with deadly dark magick, and pointed it at Drusilla.

"Hey! Back off, Looney Tunes! You're not snacking on my boyfriend!" Amy snapped.

"You tell 'em, baby!" Warren nodded in encouragement.

"Oh, shut up, Warren," Amy waved off his words as she kept Drusilla at bay.

Angelus/the First rolled his eyes in exasperation. It was no wonder that these fools couldn't accomplish anything against Angel and that little blonde Slayer bitch, what with the way they fought among themselves. "If I could get to the point now? I have a master plan to get rolling! So can we please not fall into the ever-so-clichéd trap of the villains fighting amongst themselves?"

Once its new minions returned to their neutral corners, and certain that it had their attention, the First resumed its speech.

"All right, where was I? Oh yeah…time and again, you've gone up against the enemy. Fought the evil fight, put in your best efforts, gone all out to see your grand schemes work." Angelus's voice became condescending. "And time and again, you've all failed. Miserably. Thanks to the person wearing either this face…"

The First morphed back into Buffy Summers. "…or, more often, this one. But that all changes today. This whole little game, Good vs. Evil, Light vs. Dark…people, I'm tired of it. I'm done playing games, and I'm done waiting around. When you want an apocalypse done right you've got to do it yourself, which is why you're all here today. Individually, this little blonde girl with the bouncy hairdo and her buddies have wiped the floor with you. You never even had a chance to get out of your corners before she went Mike Tyson on your asses.

"But, if focused collectively…combining the talents of a powerful witch, a genius-level, misogynistic mad scientist, a clairvoyant vampire with marvelous credentials, a skilled and lethal warlock and an eight foot tall, horn-headed, unstoppable tower of power…with an endless wave of followers at my disposal, deadly primordial vampires at my command, all led by my most faithful servant, one with inhuman strength, and what does that all add up to?"

The First smiled chillingly as its projected image of Buffy suddenly began oozing blood from its eyes, its mouth, and its stomach. "The death of the Slayer. And her friends. And the birth of a new world order."

The villains smiled in intrigue, curious to see what this mysterious entity was offering them.

"I've been waiting for lo these billions of years to seize ultimate power, y'know. And now, finally, I have that opportunity. I'll have the power and the means to obliterate all of my enemies, regardless of their power, in a matter of mere hours. But make no mistake - for the kind of power that I'm talking about, to paraphrase that song, the world is not enough."

"Great movie," Warren whispered to Amy. The witch, not amused, elbowed him in the stomach before diverting her attention back to the First.

"After I've obtained the power I've been seeking, I'll have what I need to reshape the landscape of the entire cosmos," Buffy/the First continued. "And in exchange for helping me get what I want, you'll all be granted your fondest wishes."

Buffy/the First turned to face each of its minions in turn. "Amy…always striving for power, yet always overshadowed by Willow. When this is over, you'll have more power than her and all of the other witches on Earth combined."

Amy smiled in greedy anticipation.

"Warren…the lady-hatin' ladies man, who had his fetching mug peeled off like a banana. But with my help, not only will you have the chance to mutilate that redhead who ripped off your face… but I'll restore you to your former self. You'll be as you were, before your...disfigurement."

Warren's eyes began to water as flickers of desperation and hope ignited in his twisted heart.

"Poor, sweet Drusilla…abandoned, lonely and alone. And yet once this is over, your 'family' will never leave your side again."

Drusilla giggled in insane glee, like a mad child.

"And you, Big Guy? The juggernaut who was feared for centuries before Angel gave you a Julius Caesar special through the back? Stick with me…and you'll get your honor back. Not to mention your revenge."

The Beast grinned in a truly evil fashion, thoughts of retribution running rampant in his head.

"Angelus," the Beast growled in that deep, bass-filled voice. "I will crush his bones under my heel and make him beg for mercy before I crush his skull in my hands, and only the dust remaining will serve as a clue he even existed."

Buffy/the First smiled sardonically. "Boy. You're a real people person, aren't ya?"

The rock-plated demon merely grunted in response.

"Right," Buffy/the First muttered before turning to its minions with a vicious grin. "Okay, guys and gals, first thing's first…who's up for a little road trip to sunny LA?"

* * *

**Los Angeles - Sixth Street Viaduct Bridge**

**Now**

* * *

The silence after Jasmine's shocking revelation about the First Evil's origins stretched for all eternity, or so it seemed.

Finally, Cordelia broke the silence. "I'm sorry, I've been asleep for about eight months, so I'm still got desperately-needing-morning-coffee thought processes going…did you just say that you CREATED THE FIRST EVIL?"

Jasmine looked away, her pale eyes downcast and filled with something that Angel saw resembling regret.

"How…how is that possible?" the vampire detective asked in astonishment, his mind filled with a thousand, no, a million questions.

Buffy's mind was still blown away by this revelation. For the last eight years of her life - whether it was sticking pointy bits of wood into vampires, hacking demons to itty bitty pieces with something sharp or averting whatever apocalypse that came down her way, despite of the overwhelming responsibility and burden of her calling, Buffy had taken solace in the idea that she was at least fighting _for_ something.

Fighting for the side of right, for making the world a better place through her actions.

That she was doing good, and that, in itself, was its own reward.

Was it all just a cosmic joke, though?

If what Jasmine was saying was true, was all of her suffering, all of her misery and heartache, the deaths of loved ones and the maddening weight of her destiny…for nothing? Was she just a tool to clean up the mess that some all-powerful Higher Screw-Ups had created?

"Okay, you need to explain that statement right the hell now," Buffy said at last, her eyes mixed with shock, anger and confusion. "What do you mean, you _created_the First?"

"It means exactly what it means," Jasmine mumbled miserably. "It exists because of me."

"Five words don't make for a good enough explanation," Angel brusquely retorted. "A little detail on the side would go nicely with the bombshell you just served up."

"Exactly," Buffy added, just as coldly. "Details, Jasmine. And lots of 'em. Now."

Jasmine bristled for a moment at the tone that the lower beings in front of her were speaking to her with. _If only my 'mother' weren't here, I'd tear them apart limb from limb..._

At last, however, the fallen Power relented, realizing how she had no leverage in this situation. "Do you have any idea what it's like having to live lifetimes, eternities, with the weight of knowing that you did something so terrible, so horrible, that you would do anything, give anything, just for a chance to make it right?"

Angel's dark brown eyes turned away for a moment, a tapestry of bloody, gory, anguish-filled atrocities flickering through his mind - crimes that Angelus had committed over the last few centuries.

"I know a little something about that," he quietly admitted.

Buffy turned to her lover for a moment, her eyes softening as she saw the guilt weighing down on him, hovering over him like a dense cloud. She knew full well, had seen for herself, how much Angel's past always haunted him, no matter how many times she had tried to convince him that it wasn't really him when they were together.

Jasmine looked up at the vampire detective for a moment. "Right…of course, you do."

Cordelia bitterly looked down and rubbed her arms, the horrors of the last eight months flashing before her eyes. "Well, I may not have eternity, but there's that whole 'rest-of-my-life' part I can spend thinking about the last few months."

Both Angel and Buffy cast the Seer a sad glance of understanding, before Jasmine continued.

"To understand what I'm talking about, we have to go all the way back to the beginning. The origins of the universe itself," Jasmine began, staring off into a distant past only she could see. "I have no direct knowledge of the time before Time, but - imagine a state of existence where there is…nothing. Literally. A nothingness empty of anything and everything. Except for one thing…an anomaly. What your scientists now call a 'singularity'. Without warning, for reasons that will probably remain forever unknown, it suddenly...exploded. And within that explosion…that's where the first life arose."

"The Big Bang Theory," Angel surmised, as he realized what Jasmine was talking about. "That's what you're talking about, isn't it?"

"It's no theory, vampire," Jasmine replied, almost indignantly. "Because I was _there_. From the fires, the very crucible of creation…from the very first nanosecond of creation, that was when and where I became self-aware. Although I wasn't alone. There were others like me, the first sentient beings, able to think, to feel, to see and hear - we stepped forward from the chaos into this astonishing universe."

"The Powers That Be," Buffy realized.

"Yes," Jasmine nodded. "Although we never referred to ourselves as that, of course; we simply…were. Countless beings of untold size, incredible power, completely unfathomable to the comprehension of most lower beings. Yet, we worshipped the singularity - it was the fountain of life, the source of all of the raw material from which all of existence was derived."

The fallen Power paused for a moment. "We dubbed it the Eye of Creation."

The black woman said that name with a special reverence, as if it was the holiest name in existence. Then she went on, "For roughly a hundred thousand years after the singularity exploded and the cosmos continually expanded outward, we explored all of creation. We learned all that was knowable; the entire universe was our playground. But then, something unexpected happened..." Jasmine trailed off.

"What?" Angel, Buffy and Cordelia all said in unison.

"The temperature of the heavens finally cooled enough for matter and radiation to become decoupled. The infant universe suddenly became...transparent, as if with a clash of cymbals," Jasmine said with that same remote, distant voice, as if she was actually remembering that unimaginable event from billions of years ago.

"We were...surprised. It was the first time since we'd emerged from the Eye that we'd ever experienced such a thing. And in time, we started to experiment with the new environment around us. We eventually mastered the four fundamental forces of the universe - your scientists call them gravity, electromagnetism, and the strong and the weak nuclear force. Atoms, electrons, and quarks were mere playthings for beings with our abilities…we smashed them, molded them, shaped and bent them to our whim. From there came the stars, galaxies, planets, and, at last, our greatest masterpiece…the first living world. Our first home."

"Earth," Angel stated flatly.

"Yes…not the Earth that you know, however," the mocha-skinned 'woman' clarified.

"So, no cars, no Starbucks and no Wi-fi? Bummer," Cordelia snarked.

Ignoring that remark, Jasmine continued her tale. "It was literally Paradise. Teeming with beauty and life. Color and sound. We all gathered here from throughout the universe, took corporeal form and lived as gods. For billions of years, the living Earth was our home. We needed nothing else, and my brothers and sisters were content to live as they were for all eternity."

"But, I'm guessing, you? Not so much," Buffy said suspiciously.

"True enough," Jasmine nodded. "I became…bored. I saw the potential for something greater than trees and mindless animals. I wanted to shake things up, move things along, let life evolve the way it was meant to - fluid and exciting and unpredictable. I called it the Great Experiment."

Angel cocked his head as he studied Jasmine for a moment. "I'm guessing the others Powers didn't see it that way."

A bitter look crossed her scarred face as Jasmine scoffed, "Of course not. I begged them, pleaded with them to help me change things. To continue the path of evolution, as we ourselves had evolved since the moment we had emerged from the Eye. Yet, they refused. The rest of the Powers were content to frolic in the eternal now, the static, the ordinary. They had no imagination, no sense of purpose. No ambition either, the lot of them…they thought I was temporarily insane, and subsequently ignored me. So, looking beneath the ground, deep in the primordial ooze, I focused on the microorganisms there. Willing themselves to move, to change. I…gave them a little boost."

"Meaning, you monkeyed around with their cells and pushed them further down the old evolutionary tree," Buffy mused, dimly recalling what she had learned years ago during high school Science class. "That about sum it up, Darwin?"

"If I hadn't 'monkeyed around' with your first primitive ancestors, as you so flippantly put it, right now? You and yours would still be mindless bacteria, part of the ooze that ate itself. Well, apart from your so-called 'sister'," Jasmine said, partially growling - as she felt offended over how Buffy had made light of her genius. "Don't you understand, you arrogant little fool? I CREATED YOUR SPECIES! I put together the building blocks, laid the foundations for something better, something greater…but my brothers and sisters were less than pleased when they found out. They chastised me. Said I was irresponsible, erratic in my decision…foolish. They wanted me to undo what I'd done immediately."

"But you refused," Angel said bitingly, wondering if what he'd just heard was true.

"Of course I refused. One doesn't simply create a masterpiece and then throw it away like garbage. We argued about it for the longest time, without stopping. Centuries, millennia even..."

Cordelia raised her eyebrows, less than impressed. "Wow. I've heard of arguments that never end, but you guys really take the cake."

"Cute," Jasmine spat, before continuing. "You have to understand - for my siblings, it was not in their nature to know or use emotions. Their arguments were toneless, emotionless, logical and patient. I, on the other hand, was none of those things. I knew passion and creativity; they didn't. At the time, I felt like I was arguing with fools who simply couldn't understand my brilliance, my vision. And it was then that, for the first time, I became the first being in existence to experience a new emotion: anger."

"I was momentarily awed - the heat, the frustration, the fire pouring from every cell in my being. But in beings as powerful as the Powers - we who could bend the physical universe to our will, merely by the strength of our minds alone - such emotion was dangerous…too dangerous to be experienced. As one of my brothers - one that I was particularly fond of - attempted to calm me down, I…"

Jasmine swallowed, her sickly eyes beginning to mist again. "I lashed out. In my rage, I killed him. I-I didn't mean to do it, but the rage had…consumed me…to the point where I could no longer consciously control my actions.

"That was the first time we had ever experienced death. None of us could understand what had just happened - it was utterly incomprehensible to beings such as ourselves. We had always existed since we'd emerged from the Eye, and in our ignorance we had assumed that we, all of us, would always exist. It was a...a shock to find out just how wrong we were. How we were, in fact, able to cease to be. To die.

As my brothers and sisters were staring at me, aghast in fear...again, something none of us had ever experienced before...something changed within me. I felt a pain from deep within, unlike anything I had ever experienced. I screamed in agony, and then something burst out from within me…something dark. Angry. Full of rage and ill intent. Something truly…foul."

"The First Evil," Buffy swallowed, in realization.

Jasmine closed her eyes as again, a look of regret crossed her marred features. "Yes. It was…the first abomination. Unlike anything we had ever seen, or even conceived possible. Almost immediately, it killed two of my siblings and began laying waste to the area around us. So much destruction, so much death…we began fighting back against it, but it was too powerful to be beaten. It killed scores of us, as we struggled to learn the ways of war. For eons, the battle between the Powers and the First raged...

"And the longer it existed within this plane of reality, the more it began to infect the creatures around us, tainting them with its darkness. Thus, the first of the demons came to be."

"The Old Ones," Angel uttered in astonishment.

Buffy and Cordelia met his stunned gaze with mirrored glances. "The first original demons," Buffy said in amazement.

"It was a seemingly endless struggle, and so many of my siblings were slain, so much of our world destroyed," Jasmine continued. "But at long last, the strongest of us finally managed to destroy the First. Physically, at least.

"But to our horror, while its physical shell was obliterated, its malevolent spirit was not. It continued to infect the lower beings of the planet with its evil - until at last, we were able to capture its non-corporeal self and open a rift between the dimensional walls, where we sealed the First Evil away from this reality.

"But by the time we had defeated the First Evil, we were too weak to defend ourselves against the Old Ones, as you refer to them. Eventually, there was no other choice; after safely hiding the Key, we were forced to ascend to a higher dimension. To leave this realm and seek refuge elsewhere - to find a new home.

"It…it utterly broke my heart. I loved my home, had done from the first moment we had created Paradise here. I hated how we were forced to abandon it, how we were unable to cleanse or reclaim it, leaving our once-beautiful sanctuary to the mercy of those...monsters.

"From there, the Old Ones reigned for untold eons, and it seemed that their carnage would last forever…until mankind arose and eventually drove the Old Ones asunder, thanks to the aid of a few warriors chosen by my brethren and I - a mix of both benevolent demons, such as Makai the Valiant of the Quilloc Tribe, and brave humans - as we watched from our new home."

Cordelia and Angel shared a look of bewildered surprise.

"The first Champions of the Powers. I learned about that in the Higher Planes," Cordelia blurted out.

"They were aided in their struggle by a young girl. She was known as Sineya of the Shadow Tribe. The first of the Chosen, infused by the spirit and power of a demon - tamed by the three shamans of the tribe, yes, but still one of the darkest and strongest of the Old Ones."

"The First Slayer," Buffy realized in shock, flashing back to her encounter with the Shadow Men weeks ago, and that dark spirit they had tried to infect her with in order to fight the First Evil.

Jasmine merely nodded. "Together, they eventually banished or destroyed the Old Ones - many of them were interred within a well deep in the core of the Earth, where their evil would be sealed away for all eternity. At the time, I had hoped that humanity would continue on a path to restore this planet to its former glory, to create Paradise as we had done and follow in our footsteps; maybe even create a world where my fellow Powers and I could descend and share in said paradise once more. But I was mistaken. The humans were - still are - too weak, too easily filled with anger and hate.

Jasmine's milky eyes filled with bitter tears. "I saw my world burn while the First Evil still lived…and I knew that it was all my fault. The other Powers never held what I'd done against me, like I said they were all lacking in any sort of emotion, but - I could never forgive myself for what I'd done. I was responsible…during one moment of weakness, where I lost control of myself, I destroyed everything I'd ever loved. I…I had to find a way to fix it. I just had to…I couldn't live for all of eternity with that burden. It was just too much to bear, even for a Power like me…"

_And that left you vulnerable to the manipulations of the Beastmaster and its pal. The one the other Powers killed, after they caught it trying to slip out of the Higher Planes. _Unable to help it, for a few moments Angel felt like he could relate to Jasmine's situation. There was an endless list of things he wished he could fix, if he were able. Such as all the deaths he was responsible for, with or without the soul.

Or hurting Buffy so badly, both by unleashing Angelus and by leaving her after Graduation.

Or turning his back on Cordy, Wesley and Gunn when he'd callously fired them all a couple of years back.

Or being a second too slow when Holtz had leapt into Sahjhan's damned portal, along with his infant son.

Or being so desperate to get Cordelia's memories back that he had told Lorne do a spell that, instead of helping his Seer, had unleashed the Beastmaster and Jasmine to terrorize and destroy LA.

_Too much for you to bear?_ Angel then thought to himself. _Yeah, I guess I can relate..._

Despite her disdain for this creature, a part of Buffy couldn't help but to relate as well. The night she'd lost her virginity to Angel showed her just how quickly life as she knew it could forever change when one lost control.

"Oh, Boo Frickety Hoo!" Cordelia's cold voice shocked both warriors, and Jasmine.

Her hazel eyes narrowed in contempt, Cordelia sneered at her 'child.' "So, you're telling me that not only did you create the Root of All Evil because you threw a major temper tantrum way back when, thereby destroying paradise for, oh, pretty much everyone…but your answer to fixing your cosmic-level screw-up is by raising The Beast to tear apart LA, rain down fire from the skies, blocking out the sun and turning this city into Hell's version of Disney Land, all the while  
using _**my**_ body to do it? Oh my God - you're pretty much the biggest screw-up _ever_, aren't ya?"

Buffy tried to calm her down. "Uh, Cordy…"

"No!" the brunette's sharp voice cut the blonde Slayer off at once, resuming her glare on Jasmine. "You really think after everything you've done, everything you did to me, that I'm gonna cut you any slack? You think that just because you had some grand vision to fix your mistakes, that gave you the right to kill people, to manipulate our lives, to do all the terrible things that you did? Well, newsflash, but you're _wrong_! I don't give a damn what your excuses and reasons were, or how much you try to paint yourself as the victim here, because you know what? You're not getting jack from me unless it's an axe in the skull! You're not one of the good guys, and you never will be!"

Moving quickly, Angel pulled Cordelia aside. "Cordy, please - we kinda need you to be quiet now."

"WHAT? Don't tell me you actually _believe_ all this crap she's been spouting?" Cordelia angrily sputtered. "All this '_I created your species_' mumbo-jumbo?"

"I don't know for sure what to believe right now," Angel replied, looking his Seer dead in the eyes. "Look, what she did to you was inexcusable; I get that. But, like it or not, Jasmine might have what we need to take on the First - if she and the rest of the Powers really did seal it away once, hopefully it can be done again somehow. So you have to keep a level head here, or else we can probably kiss the whole world goodbye."

"But -"

"Can you do that, Cordelia? Please? For me?"

Cordelia pursed her lips angrily, but one look at those pleading, almost hypnotic brown eyes, the eyes of the man who meant so much to her, and the Chase woman couldn't help but to cave in.

"All right, fine," Cordelia groused. "I'll play nice. For now."

Despite the anger she felt, the half-smile that Angel gave her was enough to draw a small smile out of the agitated Seer.

As she bore witness to their exchange, Buffy felt the flares of jealousy explode within her again as she saw just how easily Angel and her old high school rival got along. The ease, the familiarity, the chemistry of old friendship…it was so different from what she and Angel shared.

It was always an electrical storm of sparkage between them, a raging inferno of heated history and a tornado of emotions, good and bad. It might have been familiar…but it was never easy. Cordelia and Angel may never have been lovers, may never have shared the kind of rare soul-shaking, heart-rending passion that Buffy and Angel did - but deep down, the little blonde Slayer knew that the tall brunette Seer had connected with Angel in a way that she never had. And that was something that, deep down, hurt Buffy to know.

Shaking herself from that line of thought, Buffy turned her attention back to Jasmine. "Okay, well, here's the sitch. Obviously, your plan to turn everyone in this world into a bunch of Jasmine-lovin' zombie freaks didn't pan out. And what's more, you know now that it was never in the cards to begin with. The First has played you like a fiddle. That leaves you with only two options - either, A, you give us something that we can use against the First...or B, Angel and I stand back and let Cordy do her best Jason Vorhees impersonation on you."

"I vote option 'B,'" Cordelia replied in a cheery voice that was an odd juxtaposition to the cold, deadly smile she flashed the fallen Power.

"I already told you. The First can't be fought, it can't be killed, and it's only a matter of time before it finds me," Jasmine shook her head. "And once it becomes flesh again, you're dead. You're all dead."

"Well, then. I guess these next few moments are pretty important to you," Angel replied in a steely tone.

"What does it matter, anyway? It's all ruined - this world is doomed to drown in its own blood now," Jasmine said, standing as she looked over the bridge in misery.

Sensing that the ex-goddess was wavering on her decision, Angel tried a different tactic.  
"Jasmine, look…we've both done horrible things. I mean, former Scourge of Europe talking here. It's painful to deal with, I know, but…all people like us can do is try and make up for it. You might not be ready to forgive yourself, but maybe you can focus on making this world a better place the _right_ way. Okay, it's not the world that you wanted, but…maybe you can still help us save it, even if you have lost your powers."

Somewhat tellingly, Cordelia said nothing.

However, Buffy, sensing that perhaps Jasmine was close to coming over to their side, decided to add in her own two cents. _Nothing much to lose..._

"Look," the Slayer said softly. "We need your help, it's that simple. If you sit on the sidelines and do nothing, then we're probably gonna fail - and the First ends up getting the last laugh on you _and _us. So, you can either stand around, moping and feeling sorry for yourself…or you can take the chance to do some real good. So what's it going to be, Jasmine? Do you want to be remembered as a monster…or as one of the good guys?"

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel-Library **

**The Same Time **

* * *

"You wanna tell me again what we're looking for here?" Kennedy requested of her companion, almost a complaining note in her voice as she and Robin rummaged through the many shelves of occult books, part of the extensive literary material that Angel and Wesley had within the hotel. Well, technically it was all Angel's now, as nearly a year ago Wes had been officially kicked out of the Hyperion along with all his personal stuff; right about that time Angel had tried to smother the British man to death in the hospital.

Anyway, there were a lot of books here in the hotel's _ad hoc_library. Black market texts, demonology books, manifestos, grimoires, codexes and compendiums…it was a collection that many Watchers and magical practitioners would have been proud to have, and would have been willing to pay top dollar for as well.

"It's a book," Robin replied to Kennedy's question as he continued to browse through the stacks of books on the shelves, his eyes eagerly seeking his prize.

Looking around the extensive library and the stacks of books on the walls, Kennedy huffed in annoyance. "Thanks. Could ya be a _little_more specific, though?"

"It's called 'Vampyre: A Florigelium of the Undead, Volume 193'," Robin explained as he continued to pick up untitled books from the shelves, only to slam them back in their places in frustration when they were of a different title than the book he sought. "It's part of an alphabetical listing of virtually every vampire encountered by a Slayer or a Watcher since the Council began documenting them. Which was back around the time writing was first invented, or so I hear."

"So, it's like a 'Who's Who Among Famous Undead Americans?'" Kennedy snorted.

"Something like that, but - not just Americans," Robin shrugged with a smirk. "This book was published by Laura Kay Weathermill, actually. From what I've heard, she was a member of the Watchers Council renowned for her detailed research into the undead. Any self-respecting Watcher has at least part of her collection in their files. And since this Wesley guy is a former Watcher, he should have it around here somewhere."

Kennedy shrugged, not knowing or caring that the odds were against it - given Wesley's acrimonious split from Angel Investigations last year. She then asked, "But why this particular volume?"

"Because it has the most complete information anywhere on the Order of Aurelius - that's the line of vampires that Angelus is descended from," Robin elaborated. "If this Angel guy really is Angelus, I'm thinking Wesley would have ordered out for as much intel on him as possible. At least, I _hope_he did."

"He is Angelus, I'm sure of it," Kennedy insisted. "Willow wouldn't lie to me about something like that!"

"I'm not saying she did. But there's no harm in doing your homework and not jumping to conclusions," Robin shrugged again.

Kennedy's face frowned, before her expression cleared up. "Oh, I get it! That's a pun, right? With you being a high school principal, and all?"

Robin chuckled. "Thought it'd go better if I didn't make it quite so obvious."

The young Potential couldn't help but to laugh a little. Normally, she didn't like authority figure-types - but Robin wasn't all bad, she discovered. Plus, he got huge bonus points for being a demon hunting badass fighter.

No sooner than Kennedy had finished her musing than she came across a large black book. "Hey, I found it - that Flagship of the Undead thing you mentioned. Ooh! Volume 193, that's definitely our girl..."

Immediately, Robin dropped the book he was holding onto the ground and strode over to where Kennedy was standing, grabbing the Florigelium book from her hands as he began flipping through the pages of the heavy tome.

Kennedy wasn't disappointed as she and the principal flipped through the detailed pages, notes and diagrams within the book. _This Weathermill chick knows her vamps, alright…_

After skimming through the stuff on the undead Roman named Aurelius and the Master himself, Robin found the biography on Angelus. Not that he needed to read it, however: Bernard Crowley, his dead mother's Watcher, used to tell him the stories of the vampire known as the 'Scourge of Europe' and the 'Demon with the Face of an Angel,' while he was growing up, sometimes during Halloween as a scary ghost story of sorts.

The difference was, unlike most ghost stories - these horrible tales were real. Which made them all the scarier for a young boy growing up in the shadow of his mother's death at the hands of such a creature.

"Holy cow. 1798, Paris, along with his Childe known as Penn, Angelus nails a litter of puppies to wall of early animal rights activist Miriam Granier. 1860, England, he slaughtered everyone in the Sisters of Mercy Convent…1882, Brussels, the infamous vampire clique unofficially known as the Whirlwind, led by Angelus, massacre an entire orphanage on - ironically enough - Father's Day," Kennedy read. "The man loves his work, huh?"

"Angelus isn't a man, Kennedy; he's a monster," Robin replied grimly as he flipped through more pages. "That's why I want to be _sure_ I know who I've been dealing with, before we make our next move. It was hard enough to let slide the fact that I'm currently on the same side as the dirtbag demon who murdered my mother - but I'll be _damned_before I fight alongside something like Angelus, and I don't care what Buffy says about souls and all that crap. Bernie and my mother would be spinning in their graves at that thought."

Finally, he came across a daguerreotype of Angelus dating back to 1831 in Venice. Robin's eyes widened as he took in the image; the long-haired vampire in that illustration was almost a dead ringer - no pun intended - for the spikey-haired man that Buffy had assured the demon hunter that he could trust.

"Told ya," Kennedy shrugged, not surprised as much as she was satisfied that her intel was right.

"This…changes things," Robin muttered as he absently turned the page…

…where he found the family tree diagram linking the Master to Darla, then Angelus, followed by Drusilla and then…William the Bloody, a.k.a. Spike. There were a few other names present such as Penn, James, and Elisabeth: but Wood was mesmerised by the name 'William Pratt' and the year he'd been turned into a soulless demon.

Seeing that name in print made Robin's left hand ball so tightly that his dark-skinned knuckles were practically turning white. He stared at the diagram as he absorbed the implications of what it meant.

It was Angelus who had sired Drusilla…who had sired Spike…

_And it was Spike who killed my mother_, Robin swallowed as the sickening gravity of his discovery slammed down upon him like a brick house. _That means Angel…_

"Omigod…he's the vamp that, like, made the vamp who made Spike?" Kennedy realized in shock. "Wow…so, what, does that make him, like 25 percent responsible for your mom's death? I mean, if it wasn't for Angelus, this Drood-zilla chick -"

"Drusilla," Robin absently corrected as his mind struggled to comprehend this latest bombshell.

"…would have been dead or something like decades before she made Spike, and he would've never even existed as a vampire, right?" Kennedy finished her rambling.

As the Potential Slayer said that, Robin's dark eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as that old, familiar rage sparked in the pit of his chest. With a stunning clarity, Robin now realized why it was that Buffy had been so _annoyingly _evasive when asked to elaborate on exactly who Angel was - she must have realized what the truth would have meant to Robin, and how he never would have agreed to ally with the Scourge of Europe.

His mother had been murdered 26 years ago, Spike had gleefully killed her…and at least part of that, no matter how indirect, was Angel's fault.

"Kennedy," Wood said at last, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. "Remember when I asked you if I could count on you for backup?"

The dark-haired Potential smiled knowingly as she realized what Robin was thinking.

"Yup. And that offer's still on the table," Kennedy smirked wickedly as she pulled out one of her stakes, toying with it.

"Consider the offer officially accepted," Robin replied with a dangerous look in his eyes, as he slammed the Florigelium shut. "When the others return, I think it's time we have a word with our new friend 'Angel' - the kind of word that starts with 's' and ends with 'take.'"

* * *

**Los Angeles - Sixth Street Viaduct Bridge**

**Now**

* * *

With a weary look in her sickly, distorted eyes, Jasmine regarded the three beings in front of her. Three creatures that were little more than bugs compared to her.

And yet, between them they had managed to bring her carefully laid out plan - one that had been millennia in the making - come tumbling down in ruins. Through formidable minions. Across deadly dimensions and a number of planes of existence.

Jasmine had always been skeptical of entrusting the fate of this realm to the likes of these creatures. They were so small, so fragile…and the evil they faced was so very powerful.

And yet, here they were - a Slayer, a Vampire and a Seer - with the audacity to think that they could do the unthinkable, achieve the unachievable, to succeed where she and her siblings had failed.

It was madness. It was lunacy. It was crazy…

_But maybe, to survive, that's what this world needs right now,_ Jasmine realized. _Someone who is actually crazy enough to stand against the storm and believe they can win._

With a dry chuckle, Jasmine shook her head. "I must be insane."

"No kidding," Cordelia snarked.

Jasmine turned and looked Angel straight in the eye. "Well, now, 'Grandfather'. You really think you have what it takes to defeat the First Evil?"

"With the right help…I know we do," Angel said, his voice strong and confident.

Buffy watched as Jasmine seemed to take in Angel's words, seemed to weigh whether she could trust them…

At last, Jasmine gave a small smile. "You know something? The crazy part is…I actually believe you."

At that, Buffy let out a heavy sigh of relief. "So, you'll help us?"

"Yes…but we don't have much time," Jasmine explained, suddenly looking rushed and in a hurry. "I can feel the First drawing closer as we speak. Its eyes are upon me, I can sense it now. It may not be much, but I can offer you some tools you will need."

With that, Jasmine's right hand suddenly turned and plunged itself deep into the fallen Power's stomach, ripping through skin and flesh, Jasmine groaning in pain as she did so.

"Jasmine!" Buffy shouted, horrified. "Hey, what are you -?"

After a few moments, Jasmine tore out three chunks of some unusual body part, covered in blood and viscera. It was hard to tell what they were, exactly, but then neither the vampire nor the two humans wanted to examine the three body parts too closely at that precise moment.

Angel stared in shock at the ex-goddess. _Okay, I wasn't expecting that..._

"Oh, God - scarred for life, scarred for life," a revolted Cordelia, who looked like she was about to be sick, muttered.

With another inhuman effort, Jasmine's right hand closed around the three body chunks of herself and squeezed hard, a bright white light emitting from her palm as she did so.

As her self-inflicted wound began to heal, Jasmine opened the palm of her hand to reveal three shiny golden rings.

Her body trembling from the effort, Jasmine held out the shaky hand to Angel. "Here. Take them."

Despite his wariness, Angel slowly reached out and took the three rings into his hand. And even though he was remarkably pop culture-challenged, even the ensouled vampire thought that the three golden rings looked rather familiar.

_We're just lucky Andrew isn't here right now_, Buffy mused. _The little dorkus might be drooling and saying things like 'my precious...' and 'the one ring...err, three rings...'_

"What are they?" Angel asked, confused.

"Rings," Jasmine rasped.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, Bilbo, but I think he means - what do they do?" Buffy asked.

"Each ring contains some of my essence," Jasmine explained slowly. "Part of my strength. Only a fraction, but still…if things turn out as I expect, they will be of use to you."

"How?" Angel asked.

"You'll know…when the time comes."

"Time? What time? We're out of time, Jasmine," an exasperated Buffy huffed. "This is no time for the cryptic act, okay? Just tell us how we can use these things, how long they'll last, maybe an instruction manual -"

"Listen!" Jasmine barked. "There are some rules even I can't disobey, and one of them is the eleventh commandment: _thou shalt not give the lower beings all the answers up-front!_ The rings and their purpose will be revealed to you, in time. You heroic types always manage to find the answers for yourselves; it's part of what you do. Be patient. At the very least, they should slow down the First when it comes for me."

"Not gonna happen," Angel replied, his eyes filled with promise. "Jasmine, come with us back to the hotel. We can keep you safe until we know what our next move is."

"Angel's right," Buffy added as she stepped closer to Jasmine. "Look, we're not exactly friends, but I promise you - if you're on our team now, we'll do everything in our power to help protect you."

Suddenly, Cordelia gasped as her eyes went white, her hands flew to her head and a jumble of images filled her mind, her first vision from the Powers in more than a year_…**[See Author's Note_]**

_She saw the Beast. _

_Her mind reeled at that revelation. The Beast was dead. Angel had killed it, according to what she remembered as the creature's master. And yet, there it was. _

_The monstrous size, that horrid, soulless smile, stomping, lumbering towards somewhere that was familiar to her somehow._

_Around it, at least twenty robed and armed Bringers, eager to serve. Eager to kill._

_And suddenly, she was seeing things from the Beast's point of view. And now, she realized, in horror, why the area seemed so familiar._

_Because those monsters were on the Sixth Street Viaduct Bridge. And headed straight for them…_

The vision faded as Cordelia felt Angel's hands clutch her shoulders tightly and steady her.

"What?" Angel asked in concern. "Cordy, what did you see?"

Fear and confusion were on the face of the beautiful brunette Seer as she uttered, "We've got trouble..."

Suddenly, the loud sound of scraping and grinding metal could be heard, making Buffy look upwards…just in time to see a minivan flying overhead and plummeting straight towards them.

"_Look out_!" Buffy shouted in warning as she quickly knocked both Angel and Cordelia out of the way - just moments before the uprooted car came crashing down upon the spot where they were standing, turning into a crushed heap of metal and broken glass.

With a look of sheer terror on her face, Jasmine looked straight ahead at what caused the car to go airborne. "No…they're _here_!"

"_What's_ here?" Buffy groaned before she looked up…and her eyes went wide at the sight.

Angel and Cordelia, who had just recovered their bearings, stared in shock at what they saw just several feet ahead, standing atop a flipped-over Rolls Royce.

"It can't be," Angel breathed in astonishment.

And yet, there it was…the Beast.

It was standing there in all of its horn-headed, rock-plated, evilly-smirking glory. And around it, nearly two dozen eyeless and well-armed Harbingers of Death, twirling their sharp, ceremonial knives and grinning in malice.

"Damn it. Bringers," Buffy muttered in dismay, before turning to Angel. "And by the look on your face, I guess you know the answer when I ask you, 'What the HELL is that thing with them?'"

Never taking his astonished eyes off of one of his oldest foes, Angel grimly replied, "It's the Beast, Buffy."

At that, Buffy's eyes widened as she recalled everything that Angel had told her about the creature that blocked out the sun and brought down the Rain of Fire. "The Beast? As in the _unstoppable_ Beast? The _totally invulnerable_ Beast? The same Beast you _killed_ a few weeks ago?"

"That's the one," Angel replied, though he still didn't understand how this was possible.

The Beast was dead, killed by his own hand - well, technically by his evil alter ego's - and turned to rubble. He had seen the bastard die that day, just as Faith had. Angel didn't believe that the Beast could regenerate itself like some species such as Mohra demons could. So, how was it possible that this hideous creature was now standing there like nothing had ever happened?

"He's looking pretty spry for a dead demon," Cordelia noted, though she was just as shocked as her friends.

"And pretty pissed off," Buffy swallowed.

"Angelus," the horned demon's voice rumbled out like rocks falling down a hillside, a pleased grin exposing his jagged, stony teeth. "We meet again."

The demon cocked its head as it regarded Cordelia with lusting eyes as it ran his blackened tongue across his ash-coated mouth. "And you brought your attractive female friend with the tasty lips. What a lovely bonus."

Both Buffy and Angel gave the Seer a surprised look as a horrified Cordelia paled, vividly recalling how the Beastmaster had kissed this creature a few weeks ago. What the First's minion had actually been doing, however, was using its powers to control the monster's mind through a direct injection of dark magicks into its mouth.

Of course, here and now - that didn't make the horrid memory of the creature's ashy tongue in her mouth any less disgusting to the unpossessed Cordelia.

Buffy gaped before blurting out, "You made out with a giant stone demon?"

"One of the downsides of being possessed, I guess," Cordelia grimaced. "And let us never speak of this again."

Never taking his eyes off of his prey, The Beast ground out a command to the blind demons around him. "I will retrieve the vessel. Kill the mortal women. But do not harm Angelus too much - he is _mine_."

Jasmine shook her head. "No…no, it's too late! I can't let them take me! I won't!"

She turned to flee, when Angel grabbed her arm. "Jasmine, wait! We can hold them off, just get behind us!"

"NO!" Jasmine shouted as she grabbed hold of Angel's head. Suddenly, a stream of electrical green energy passed though him as a surprised Angel convulsed and shook from the unexpected surge of electricity passing directly into his brain.

"_Angel_!" Buffy and Cordelia screamed at the same time, though Buffy was the first to bolt to his side as he fell to the ground, dazed and stunned.

Looking up at Jasmine while she cradled a fallen Angel, a frantic Buffy angrily demanded, "What did you do to him?"

"I gave him the last thing that I could give to this cause," Jasmine replied, with a look that almost seemed apologetic. "I'm sorry."

And then, she leapt off of the bridge in her escape, disappearing from sight.

"Jasmine, _wait_!" Buffy called out, as she realized that at this point, they were in no position to chase after her.

"Uh, hey, Buffy? _Now_ would be a good time to do that ass-kicking thing you do," Cordelia called out warningly as she saw the Bringers charge towards them and the Vision Girl raised her arms to defend herself.

In one swift motion, Buffy rolled across the ground and picked up her sword while she kicked over Cordelia's axe into her hands.

With that, the two women began fighting for their lives as the Bringers began their assault, while the Beast - glancing over once or twice with bored, disinterested eyes - slowly made his way over to the still-down Angel.

The blonde Slayer began throwing herself into her work as she sliced and diced her way through the First's minions. That was quite a task in and of itself, for the Bringers weren't like your typical Sunnydale demons. Because for one thing, even though they were skilled in hand-to-hand combat like vampires - under Caleb's teachings, they had become faster, more lethal and frighteningly organized. They were pure killing machines, that worked together to attack and kill their target.

But bottom line? Buffy was still the Vampire Slayer. Maybe the greatest Slayer in history. This battle could only end one way for the bad guys - badly.

Buffy nailed one of the blind demons with an impressive spinning roundhouse kick, before twirling around and impaling another Bringer through the stomach. One of the tougher ones actually gave her a hard time, slicing and hacking at her with the deadly curved blades with speed and deadly intent. But after dodging one slice towards her throat, Buffy - catching her foe off-balance - knocked the Bringer down with a well-placed sidekick before she finished it off with a neat, yet vicious swipe of her blade across its neck, decapitating the damned thing.

"Cordy," Buffy called out to the brunette, "get behind me, or you're gonna -"

No sooner had the words left Buffy's mouth, though, than she spotted Cordelia a few feet from her - eagerly mowing down assaulting Bringers.

With a sidekick that Buffy recognized to be Eastern-based, Cordelia kicked one Bringer in the stomach before spinning towards it and slamming her axe into its chest in a lethal blow. A Bringer coming up from behind her tried to slit her throat, only for the Seer to slam her foot upwards and into its privates, stunning the blind creature long enough to haul back and decapitate it with a brutal swipe of her axe. Yet another Harbinger angrily slashed and sliced through the air at her with its knives, only for Cordelia to duck each blow before she spun around, jabbed it in the face with her elbow, drive her knee into its stomach and - taking advantage of its doubled-over-in-pain state - slam her axe upwards into the Bringer's face, the minion falling dead to the ground.

"…kick some serious ass," Buffy finished in surprise, stunned as she realized that the same girl who, quite frankly, fought like a girl during time in Sunnydale was this pure fighting machine that just dispatched three Bringers all by herself.

Off her stare, Cordelia shrugged. "What?"

Surprised for a moment, Buffy quickly shook her head. "Nothing. Just watch my back," the Chosen One muttered, as she resumed fighting the enemy.

Meanwhile, three other Bringers slowly circled Angel as he lay on the ground, twirling their knives in anticipation. The Beast had changed its mind and gone over to check where Jasmine had just jumped off the bridge, so the Bringers were going to rough Angel up a bit before dragging him over to the boss.

Their smug sense of victory was short-lived, however, as Angel suddenly flipped upwards to his feet, grabbed one of the Bringers by the neck and viciously snapped it, shoving away its corpse. One of the remaining two Bringers tried to drive its knives into Angel's chest, only for the Champion to grab both of its wrists - crushing each one in his powerful grip - head-butt the minion and backhand it to the floor.

The third one tried a futile swipe at the vampire's throat, only for Angel to duck and, using his momentum, knock it down with a deadly reverse spinning side kick. He hauled the second Bringer up by the front of his robe and - with one strong heave - tossed him over the side of the bridge, his supernatural hearing picking up the satisfying crunch of bones and splattering of brain matter from below only three seconds later.

Grabbing the last one off the ground, he picked him up and hauled him skyward and over his head, catching sight of the now-very close Beast. With a cold glare in his eyes, Angel never took his eyes off the monster as he brought the Bringer's back down over his knee, rewarded by the sound of its spine snapping like a dried twig as he threw him over the side of the bridge to join its friend.

It was like a showdown between two Western gunslingers, an old-fashioned shootout at high noon on a deserted street - about the only thing missing was Ennio Morricone music - as Angel and the Beast stared each other down, barely five feet of space and a ton of bad blood between them.

Sarcastically, the Beast clapped its hands in mock amusement. "Excellent. I was worried that your skills would diminish under the strain of my new master's plan, Angelus. I am pleased to see the opposite. I want you at your best when I finally smash you into pieces."

"Doesn't anyone just stay dead where you come from?" Angel spat disdainfully, as he skillfully kicked his sword up off the ground and into his hands, ready for battle.

"You should talk," the Beast retorted, as it clenched its fists in anticipation. "The Harbingers were merely the appetizer, vampire. Now it's time for the main course."

Angel boldly smirked. "Bon appétit, Pebbles. You're gonna choke on it."

Steel met rocky hide as the old enemies resumed their ancient battle yet again.

It was a stalemate almost from the get-go, though - Angel slashed and hacked away at the Beast's hide, his broadsword holding up well under the pressure. But the rocky demon's skin was simply too thick and too strong to be penetrated by an ordinary blade. Only the bone knife the Beast had constructed could finish him off, and that weapon was somewhere back at the Hyperion hotel.

Meanwhile, the Beast swung with deadly force at his enemy, but the Champion's much faster reflexes allowed him to evade the blows, while landing several of his own. But while Angel was strong, he knew that he could not win a battle of strength against this abomination. All he could do was ride out the worst of the brute's assault and wait for an opening.

Or a miracle, whichever came first.

With a hard swipe, Angel sliced the sword across the creature's abdomen. The Beast grunted in pain and dropped to its knees. Seizing the moment, Angel raised the sword and brought it down, only for the Beast to grab hold of the blade. Angel put all his superhuman strength into it while the Beast twisted with all its inhuman power, two colossal forces battling for supremacy.

It was a struggle of good and evil. Light and dark. Winner takes all…

…and then the Beast snapped the broadsword blade in half, backhanding Angel through the air with one powerful blow and sending the Champion colliding into the side of the bridge. Angel slumped to the ground in a dazed heap.

"Angel, no!" Buffy cried out as she dispatched the last of the Bringers with a brutal snap of its neck.

Bruised and confused, Angel could only gag as the Beast grabbed him by the throat and hoisted him up in the air, unable to loosen the creature's stony grip.

"I would have waited an eternity for this moment, yet here it is," the Beast smirked as he readied his free left hand to burst through Angel's skull like a melon. "Enjoy your trip to Hell, Angelus."

"_Back off_, fugly!" The Beast heard Buffy's voice cry out before her foot connected with the Beast's face, the sheer power of the blow stunning the evil thing enough to relinquish his hold on Angel and stagger backwards.

As Angel struggled to get his bearings, he saw Buffy standing between himself and the Beast, green eyes blazing, sword twirling expertly in her hands.

"Buffy," he rasped, wanting to tell her to be careful, but his damaged windpipe refusing to let the words out.

The Beast smiled in wicked amusement as he regarded Buffy. "Ah. So, this is the true Slayer. The one who has Angelus's heart. Yes, I've heard much of you. Tell me, small one, do you break as easily as the last Slayer I pummeled - or will you live up to the legends of your predecessors?"

"Ooh, predecessors - big word you're using there, Rocks-for-Brains," Buffy snarked as she sized up the much larger Beast. "Normally, I'd give you a cookie; but, gosh darn it, I'm all out, so I guess you'll have to eat _this_!"

She promptly jumped up and kicked the rocky demon in the face before trying her luck battling with her sword. Buffy almost regretted it, though, as her foot ached in pain from kicking its stony hide.

With incredible speed, Buffy ducked under each of the Beast's lumbering blows, landing a well-aimed punch here and a solid martial arts kick there.

"Too slow, Rock-Zilla!" she taunted the creature, though her own attacks weren't proving to be any more successful.

She had never fought anything like the Beast before, each of her sword blows clanging off ineffectively, her powerful fists - powerful enough to flatten vampires with minimal effort - beginning to bruise after all of the hard blows she rained down upon it.

It was like this thing had no weaknesses. _Damn, I guess Faith wasn't kidding about this thing after all..._

With a swipe of its hand, the Beast batted Buffy aside as if she was a fly, sending her skidding painfully across the bridge into a nearby car and seeing stars.

"Buffy!" Cordelia cried out as she ran to the Slayer's side, checking her for injuries. "Buffy, come on. Get up, please! You have to get -"

She broke off as the ground shook - with each great stomping footstep the Beast stalked towards the two women, grinning that awful smile of his.

Swallowing nervously, Cordelia bravely stood up and held her axe in front of her, the only thing standing between a dazed Buffy and this monster.

"B-b-back off, Stonehenge," Cordy stammered, her face set in a serious glare but her eyes clearly wide in fear, knowing that she was no match at all for this creature. "_Now_."

The Beast merely chuckled at her, its eyes roaming lasciviously down the Seer's curvaceous form, sending a chill down Cordelia's spine. _Gross, gross, gross!_

"And what if I don't?" the Beast chuckled as it stepped closer to the terrified Seer.

"Then, I'm gonna get pissed," Angel's voice called out from behind as the ensouled vampire, now on his feet, swung a detached car door into the Beast's face, knocking the demon backwards and onto the ground.

"You two okay?" a concerned Angel asked both women as he helped Buffy to her feet.

As Cordelia merely nodded, Buffy groaned as she got to her feet, an angry look on her beautiful face.

"You know what? Lava Boy's gotten on my last nerve," she said through gritted teeth as the Chosen One eyed the Beast angrily, who had already gotten to its feet. "It's time to get down and dirty."

"Singing my song, sweetheart," Angel smirked as he and Buffy got into battle formation. "Now it's time to dance."

With a tandem motion, both supernatural warriors flew towards the Beast and cracked it right in the face with dual flying kicks. So the onslaught went as they set about punching, kicking and hacking away at the menacing monstrosity, the Beast staggering under the combined assault of the Slayer and the Champion.

After another tandem kick knocked it several feet away, the Beast - realizing it was outnumbered, if not outmatched - opted for its alternate course of strategy…a tactical withdrawal.

The word 'escape' never even entered the Beast's mind, seeing as how it refused to even consider Angel and Buffy any sort of viable threat.

"You may think you've won this battle, Angelus," he taunted Angel, who was standing in battle position alongside a sword-wielding and glaring Buffy and an axe-handling Cordelia. "But the war has already been won by us."

With that, the Beast grabbed a flaming car nearby and effortlessly heaved it towards the heroes.

"Move! NOW!" Angel shouted as he, Buffy and Cordelia dived down and away - just as the car narrowly missed them, exploding into a fireball of debris when it hit the wall of the bridge.

Shaken, but unbeaten by the blast, both Buffy and Angel staggered to their feet, ready for the final round with the Beast…

…only to discover that the creature was nowhere to be found, the bridge littered with the bodies of Bringers and wrecked automobiles. Of the eight-foot-tall stone demon, there was literally no sign.

Angel's eyes narrowed in annoyance as he realized that the Beast had given them the slip.

"I really hate that freak," he muttered angrily.

Tenderly clutching her injured left fist, Buffy let out a shaky breath. "Starting to see why. That thing's built like a tank."

Looking around and seeing no signs of trouble, Cordelia let out a sigh of relief. "Well, at least he's gone now."

"Yeah," Angel said with a pseudo-sigh of his own, though he frowned as he reminded the women of something else. "But so is Jasmine."

The three heroes exchanged troubled looks as the gravity of the situation had sunk in. The First had made its latest move, the Beast was back and badder than ever, and to top it off, Jasmine - the key to stopping this entire apocalypse - was nowhere to be found.

"Well," a deflated Buffy frowned. "At least things can't get much worse."

If she had only known how much worse things were about to get, though, Buffy probably would have wanted to stay on that bridge forever…

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel-Kitchen **

**Quite a few hours later**

* * *

_And then, There Came A Day…A Day Unlike Any Other._

_Where Earth's Mightiest Heroes found themselves united…kind of…against a common threat._

_Buffy. The Slayer._

_Angel. The Vampire._

_Willow. The Witch._

_Oz. The Werewolf._

_Spike. The…Other Vampire._

_Faith. Who is…Also A Slayer (huh, go figure)._

_Giles. The Watcher._

_Wesley. The…well, okay, also a Watcher (what's with the two of everything in this group?)_

_Cordelia. The Seer. (Although what she 'Sees' nobody's ever bothered to tell me.)_

_Dawn. The Key. (I still have no idea what that means.)_

_Connor. The…well, I'm not really sure what he is, exactly, but I know he sure can fight like a superhero._

_Anya. The Demon (well, not exactly, at least, not anymore. It's a whole thing, but whatever.)_

_Lorne. The…Green Demon? (Again with that two of everything deal.)_

_Andrew. (That's ME!) The Evil Genius (but totally reformed, honest!)_

_And…okay, I'll be honest, I have no idea what Xander, that Gunn guy, and that attractive Fred girl do apart from their day jobs, but I'll just assume they do something cool, since they always hang out with the superheroes, so let's just move this along, okay?_

_And on that day…The Avengers Were Born! To fight the foes that no single superhero…group…could withstand._

_Through the years, their ranks have prospered, changing many times…mostly, because they were killed off or went evil, but whatever…but their glory has never been denied! _

_Heed the call, then - for now, the Avengers Assemble!_

"Andrew!"

Startled from his daydream, Andrew looked up to see an annoyed Anya stamping her foot impatiently.

"You were supposed to have dinner ready half an hour ago, we're all starving here!" she huffed in irritation.

"Oh! Right. Um, coming right up!" the sci-fi nerd stammered apologetically as Andrew scurried to grab the pot roast and potatoes dinner out of the oven before it accidentally got burned.

With an uncanny grace, Wells raced out of the kitchen into the lobby about seven minutes later with a large cart, several plates of the meal and orange juice ready to go. "Okay, everyone, dinner's ready! Get it while it's hot."

Unlike this morning, however, not all of the heroes made a bee-line move to eat. Lindsey, Whistler, Anya, and Kate along with her crew and the rest of the Potentials grabbed a few plates and heartily dug in.

Xander, however, was too busy worrying about Cordelia, while Darla was still upstairs with Dawn and Connor. Willow, Giles, Oz and the rest of Team Angel were too busy either worrying about how their friends were doing at that moment against Jasmine, or pondering an emotional Cordelia's words from earlier.

Annoyed at his latest culinary delight being ignored, Andrew tried to cajole Xander and the rest of the Angel Investigations crew into joining the feast. "Hey, come on, you guys! Sitting around and waiting for the Potentials to finish off the rest of dinner isn't going to help anyone…and, and I _did_ spend the last three hours slaving over a hot stove for you people -"

"Not now, Andrew," Xander brushed him off, his thoughts concerning his ex-girlfriend still plaguing him.

"Another time," Wesley waved him off, looking distant.

Fred, noting the hurt on Andrew's face, gently offered, "Yeah, thanks, Andrew, really - but we just need a minute. It's been…pretty intense around here."

Smiling gratefully at the pretty Texan genius, Andrew nodded. "I heard…but Buffy and Mr. Angel should pull through just fine, right? I mean, they're like the World's Finest, like…like Superman and Batman. Well, although technically it's Supergirl, because Buffy's, well, a girl, and -"

"Andrew," Giles cut him off, a slight edge to his otherwise gentle voice. "Your faith in Buffy and Angel …in a completely misunderstood sort of way… is appreciated, but…"

If Rupert Giles were a man of less tact, he would have said something along the lines of: "But they're up against impossible odds. Against a force of nature that we can barely understand or comprehend. And while it would be lovely to pretend that the heroes will win the day simply because they stand on the side of right, real life is not a comic book or a fairy tale. In reality, good doesn't always triumph over evil. Heroes can fail. Worse…they can die."

However, when it was all said and done, Giles was still the father figure of this group. And despite what his highly logical, brilliant mind told him about the probable outcome for this scenario, his faith and belief in Buffy - how he had seen her snatch victory from the jaws of defeat time and again with a sharp quip, a brutal right cross and a charming, winning smile - kept feeding the improbable flames of the thought that maybe, just maybe, the heroes might win the day once more.

So, instead, what Rupert actually ended up saying was: "But we have to hope for the best. And prepare for the worst."

"Worst being, Jasmine wins, kills off both them _and_ the ex-cheerleader - and we're left without either your direct link to the Powers or the two most important warriors for the forces of light heading into the mother of all apocalypses," Whistler added as he made his way towards the group, while eagerly chowing down on the pot roast. "Mmm, this is good stuff!"

"Nice to see you lookin' so worried over there, Danny Devito Jr.," an annoyed Gunn bristled, the balance demon's flippant attitude wearing thin on him.

Whistler merely shrugged. "Just wanted to put it into perspective for you guys, is all."

The smirk did nothing to soothe Gunn's temper. "Yeah? Well, why don't you go perspective your ass somewhere _else_, Short Round?"

"Charles, stop it!" Fred snapped at him, her own temper finally reaching boiling point with Gunn's short-fused antics. "Why do you _always_ do this? Why can't you just talk like a normal person for once, without all the name-calling and the yelling?"

Gunn, caught completely off-guard by his ex-girlfriend's unexpected outburst, stared at her completely dumbfounded. "What? Fred, I…"

The slender physics wunderkind cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, forget it. I've got…somewhere else to be …"

With that, Fred abruptly stood and quickly scurried up the stairs.

Off Gunn's dumbfounded and confused stare, Lorne sighed. "Well, go on, ya big lug. Go after her!"

Gunn swallowed. Deep down, he knew that this had been coming with Fred for a long time now. They hadn't really had the chance to talk since that mess with her douchebag physics professor - the man that Gunn had killed so that Fred wouldn't have to, Oliver Seidel.

_Well, guess there's no time like the present_, Gunn thought ruefully as he stood up and began to follow his ex.

"As much as I hate to admit it, the tacky balance demon does have a point," Anya shrugged.

"Hey!" Whistler protested.

Paying no mind to him, Anya elaborated. "It's getting pretty close to midnight, and still, nothing from Buffy or Angel. If this Jasmine thing really did put the kibosh on them, we've got to start thinking Plan B."

"Do we have a Plan B?" Xander asked Giles.

"Right now, a Plan B would sound good," Kate relented. When Angel had pulled her aside after the madness had ended last night and explained the situation to her, quite frankly, she'd had half a mind to grab her crew and bolt back to her old apartment. Kate had never had any experience with apocalypses before. She was a (ex-)cop, and a good one…but not a warrior.

Still, Kate Lockley wasn't the type to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble either. People's lives were on the line, and if she thought that she could save even one life by being here, then she'd be here until the end.

The former librarian was almost at a loss for words. Giles stammered, "I-I-I wish I could say that I did. But, quite honestly, Buffy and Angel were our best hope for victory. Without them…"

"…we'll have to press on regardless," Wesley stepped in, grimly. "Their loss would leave Faith and Spike as our strongest fighters, with Connor being the third option, and whatever we can find through research and magic…at least, magicks we can use given Willow's current limits."

Willow looked downcast as she took in Wesley's words. She knew how strong she was, how powerful - and yet, she also knew that while she desperately wanted to do more to help her friends, she still wasn't quite there yet. She could only barely control the power that she had right now. If she lost control and reverted to Dark Willow, with so much at stake…the redhead shuddered at the thought.

As if he sensed her discomfort, Oz caught Willow's gaze and gave her a small, but encouraging smile, making the redhead blush as she returned the gesture with a smile of her own.

Xander let out a disgusted snort. "So, you're telling me that the fate of the world might just rest in the hands of Willy Wannabite and Darth Slayer? Well, that just inspires buckets and buckets of confidence."

"Took the words right outta my mouth," Lindsey smirked, though he was just as concerned about the direness of the situation as the others. The war was about to kick into high gear, and the two star players for the White Hats might have just been wiped off the board.

"Speaking of which, anyone seen those two around?" Oz asked, looking around.

"Not lately," Wesley muttered in annoyance, as he would have liked to have both the Slayer and the vampire around to discuss strategy with them. Picking up his cell phone, Wes began sending a quick and terse text message to Faith.

Annoyed at the damned 'no signal' icon on his phone, Pryce moved towards the front door for better reception. "Hopefully, once they get this message, they can make themselves present. We don't have time to waste."

"You got that right," Angel's voice greeted him at the moment Wesley opened the double doors…revealing a bloody-mouthed Angel, who was being leaned on by a bruised Buffy and Cordelia, whose shirt was slightly ripped at the abdomen, thanks to a swipe from a Bringer's blade.

"Angel!" a surprised Kate blurted out.

"Oh my God," Wesley uttered in relief at the sight of the three heroes.

"You're alive!" Lorne and Anya exclaimed in disbelief.

"Buffy!" Willow, Giles and Xander all but shouted as they rushed forward to hug the banged-up Slayer. Well, Xander _tried_ to rush, but what with his bad leg the guy was barely halfway there before Willow and Giles grabbed hold of Buffy tightly.

"Ow, ow, ow! Damn it guys, stop…still…banged-up…here," Buffy gasped as she struggled in their grasp.

"Oh, right! Sorry! Are you okay?" Willow quickly asked for forgiveness as she and Giles apologetically backed off.

Once assured his hero was more-or-less okay, Harris turned his attention to Cordelia - who was being engulfed in a tight hug by Lorne while being tended to by Wesley. Xander slowly limped his way over to her, concern visible all over his still-bruised face.

"Cordy, thank God you're back," he said, looking over her ripped and damaged clothes. "Are you alright?"

More out of instinct than anything else, Cordelia wrapped her arms around Xander's torso, which _definitely_ surprised the construction worker.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm okay, thanks for asking," the Vision Girl murmured into his neck, causing Xander's cheeks to flame red before he gently hugged her back, savoring the contact and thanking whoever was doling out favors Up There for bringing Cordy and Buffy back alive and safe.

However, as he opened his eyes to see Anya's eyes slitted in a jealous rage, Xander abruptly let go of the Seer, suddenly feeling awkward as he was pinned between Cordelia's confused gaze and Anya's hurt and angry stare.

_Complicated? Oh, no, my life's not complicated at all_, Xander sarcastically mused to himself. _All I'd need is another one of those wacky love spells, and this'd be like high school all over again..._

"Angel, you alright? You look pretty banged up there," Oz asked in concern.

"Yeah, you look like you just tried your luck in the Thunderdome, champ," Lorne agreed as he, Wesley and Oz helped prop up Angel and guided him to a nearby seat, while Willow and Giles did the same for Buffy.

Off everyone's curious stares, begging them to talk about what had happened with Jasmine, Angel and Buffy exchanged small nods.

"We've got a problem," Angel started to explain.

The soul-cursed vampire then told everyone everything. The true history of both Earth and the universe, how Jasmine had accidentally created the First Evil, the planet-wide war between the PTBs and the First that had followed, Jasmine's reluctant agreement to help the forces of good once more…and, to their surprise, the return of the Beast.

That revelation immediately drew looks of shock from Wesley and Lorne.

"The _Beast_ is back?" Wesley asked in shock. "Angel, a-are you sure?"

Clutching his ribs, Angel winced as he replied. "Well, all these cracked ribs he gave me when he was smacking me around made me pretty darn sure, yeah."

"And the road rash down most of my left side could back him up on that," Buffy rasped out as she turned her concerned gaze to her father figure. "I swear - I've never fought anything even close to whatever that thing was, Giles. At least with the Master or Glory I was able to have something close to a fighting chance, but he…it…that thing just kept taking my best shots and shrugging them off like it was nothing. Angel's as well. Even fighting it together, we didn't even manage to tickle its funny bone."

"Dear God," Giles uttered as he removed his glasses while studying the bruised appearance of his Slayer. "That _is_ disconcerting."

"Well, in all fairness, most demons aren't really the ticklish kind, anyway," Xander quipped half-heartedly, which earned him an eye roll from Cordelia and Giles.

"Well, this is great, _exactly_ what we needed," Lorne moaned in dismay. "Old Boulder Head's back in town!"

"I still don't get it," Cordelia cut in, trying to wrap her head around the horrid creature's comeback. "Angel, you killed that thing. It should be at the bottom of a landfill somewhere, not Frankenstein-ing around LA again."

"And yet, evidence to the contrary," Kate said, her eyes observing the cuts and bruises on Angel.

"The First. That's who must have brought it back," a grim-faced Angel hypothesised, which stunned everyone. "While I was fighting it…that thing mentioned something about a new master. Beastie didn't say who was pulling its strings now, granted, but…"

"The appearance of all those Bringers is pretty much a dead giveaway," Buffy elaborated, a deeply troubled look on the face of the pretty blonde. "That explains why they were there, and why Lava Boy was making a beeline straight for Jasmine."

"Oh, boy, this is bad," Whistler muttered as he shook his head. "The First and the Jolly Charred Giant working together? This _definitely_ ain't good."

"No kidding," Lindsey added. "Something that powerful under the control of the Ultimate Evil? Not painting a pretty picture."

"What do we do?" a worried Willow asked. "Anyone have any ideas?"

"We get ready," Buffy grimly said, her eyes turning to Angel.

"Right. Uh, where's that bone knife? I'm sure it's around here somewhere..." Lorne started looking around the lobby of the hotel.

"It's not gonna be that simple," Angel replied, his eyes locking with Buffy's, but both of them staring off into something only they could see…the beginning of the end of this war. "Seriously, I've got a bad feeling about this. But we all have to be strong. And prepare. Because whatever's coming, I'm thinking it might -"

"End world peace?"

At the sound of that hauntingly familiar female voice, Angel's eyes turned to the door…and nearly popped out of his head in disbelief.

While she didn't have a clue as to who the new arrival was, Buffy could only guess from the reactions of Angel and the rest of the Fang Gang that this person was only going to be further trouble.

Wesley's throat went dry as his eyes widened in shock. _It can't be..._

Xander watched, surprised, as a stunned Cordelia gasped, suddenly trembling at the sight of the person at the door. Looking over to his right, he could see Lorne, Kate and even Lindsey looking surprised.

For standing in their doorway, wearing a sharp grey skirt, a scarf around her neck, a stunning white blouse with matching Manolo Blahniks and, of course, her trademark smug grin…was a woman that Angel never thought he would ever see again.

Because she was supposed to be dead.

"Oh, wait, that's right - you people already took care of that," grinned Lilah Morgan at the heroes. "But for what it's worth…Congratulations!"

Off Wesley's stunned gaze, Lilah simply couldn't help herself. "What's the matter, lover? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

* * *

TBC…

* * *

Author's Note: [And it was worth noting at this point, how this act instantly disproved one of the theories the gang had recently come up with; that it had been Jasmine sending the visions all along, that the rest of the Powers simply didn't care. Well, maybe they hadn't; but now with the First on the rampage and they themselves directly under threat of mass extinction, the other PTBs finally did give a damn about something other than just 'maintaining the balance'.]

* * *

Next: Lilah Morgan Returns…dun-dun-duuuhn! And she's bringing shocking news…and an unexpected offer. What will our heroes—especially Angel, Wesley and Cordelia—think of the return of one of their most ruthless enemies.

Plus…Spike, Faith, a bar, drinks…your guess is as good as mine!

* * *

Well, gtg. More on the way! And remember…Be Cool. Re-view!

See ya!

-Jean-theGuardian


	26. Part 24 Uninvited

Howdy hey, peoples! Happy New Year To you! Special shout out to Starway Man for his everlasting brilliance as my BETA. Theo, you rule! And of course, big shout outs to Crazymel2008, philly cheese dude, JameSage22, wingster55 (Internet fist pump in your honor!) Alkeni, Keniaia, Lilly Emerald, Nilya2397, teamtiva, angelplysbuffyequals4ever, xxdawnbreakerxx, EmeraldWings90 (Mah girl! I missed you), Geoff, David Fishwick, ashes atmidnightand Angellufy. You guys are the best!

Well, it took me a while, but here's the latest installment. Sorry about the delays, but things as always are hectic; but as I've stated before, this story will be finished, damn it! And as always, feedback is always welcome and encouraged. And for those of you reading (and not reviewing)…why you hurt my feelings, man? Lol jk But seriously, drop me a line, I love new readers!

And now, without further ado, I present to you, the long awaited next chapter of…

* * *

**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 24 – Uninvited**

* * *

**McAley's Bar and Grill - 20 Blocks from the Hyperion Hotel**

**Thirty minutes ago**

* * *

"You seriously can't think that a bloody piss-weak swill like Budweiser is a superior beer to a good ol' fashioned Heineken, can you?"

"Think it? No, I _know_ it, Brit Boy. Besides, what's up with you putting German beer on a pedestal? I thought you British guys hated the Krauts?"

"With a fiery passion, luv, but that don't mean that I can't appreciate a good beer when I taste it!"

Spike and Faith had been going back and forth like this for the last ten minutes, since they'd arrived at the bar about two hours ago. It wasn't a heated argument, though, or anything that was bordering on violence. It was more akin to playful, almost flirtatious, bantering.

A few light steps in this dance they'd been doing ever since Faith had returned to the ranks of the Scooby Gang in a blaze of glory (or at least, a blazing fight where Kennedy had been humiliated in front of the rest of the Potentials).

"Well, what would you know? You actually drink pig's blood, for Christ's sake," Faith smirked as she waved off the ensouled vampire's arguments.

"And yet, luv, I'd rather drink that if the choice was between lard-arse Babe and a bleedin' Bud," Spike smirked back.

"You would," Faith snarked, but with a teasing smile as she finished off the last of her BBQ Onion Ring burger before washing it down with - Spike tried his best not to cringe in disgust - a Budweiser.

The peroxide-blond vampire couldn't help but to be impressed, though. In only a few minutes, Faith had demolished that hefty burger, a large side order of fries, buffalo wings and three beers. From her breathing pattern and the lack of a rapid heartbeat, Spike concluded that this sort of meal was not out of the ordinary for the brunette Chosen One.

And still, she had a body that looked like sin itself, toned and curved and tight in all the right places.

As if she could read his mind, Faith purred in satisfaction. "Gotta love that Slayer metabolism."

"No kidding," Spike replied, not so subtly admiring the view of her generous cleavage peeking through that temptingly white tight tank top of hers that stopped just above her navel, giving him a peak at those fabulously toned abs of hers. And she was clad in low-cut black jeans that made the already-perfect curves of her hips and ass scream to every single male in the establishment, 'Come and get it.'

She wasn't a knockout, Spike mused, she was drop-dead gorgeous, and she still made it seem like she wasn't even trying to be…which only made her all the more hotter.

"So, I got a question for ya," Faith asked nonchalantly.

"Shoot, Slayer," Spike shrugged.

"Well, I couldn't help noticing something back in Sunny-D that got me kinda curious. So I thought I'd ask, what's up with the chains in B's basement?" Faith smirked, her eyebrow raised mischievously. "Extracurricular activity, or what?"

For a moment, Spike thanked the fact that his long-inactive circulatory system made it impossible for him to blush. "Right, uh, that…It wasn't what it looked like."

Faith waved him off, thinking she'd seen the whole dude-in-denial act before. "Hey, I'm not one to judge, fella, to each his own..." The Chosen One smirked at a memory that suddenly rose within her mind. "In fact, when I was 18, this one dude I ran with? He used to dress me up like a schoolgirl and get out this friggin' bullwhip, and then we'd -"

"I got dangerous for a while," Spike cut her off, his eyes suddenly growing serious as he recalled the not-so-distant past when he'd been the First's puppet - the mental trigger that had somehow been implanted inside his head causing him to regress into a vicious killer, without him being able to remember it afterwards.

Faith's smirk faded as she saw how serious her companion was. "Was this before the soul, or after?"

"After. The First kinda had me under its control...but with Buffy's help, I eventually got fixed up alright," Spike assured her with a faint half-smile, as Faith (who had started to tense up) relaxed again. "Just puttin' that out there in case you're feeling dust-happy again after your long incarceration."

"Well, not if you're all repent-y, Blue Eyes...that takes the fun out of it," Faith replied, her smile teasing, but well-meaning.

"Repent-y," Spike scoffed, with an eye roll for good measure. "Cor blimey, luv, you're makin' me sound like Angel."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Faith asked merrily. "He's a great guy, Spike. Smart, noble, brave, forgiving…"

"You forgot dull as a table lamp, wears enough hair gel to be a bloody fire hazard...and he's a complete and utter ponce, to boot," Spike retorted. "And for the record, Slayer, singing that git's praises isn't exactly the best way to win me over."

"Win you over?" Faith drew back, an incredulous, somewhat mocking smile on her face. "And here I thought that _you_ were trying to impress _me_ on this date."

"How'm I doin' so far?" Spike asked in a smooth drawl, his lips turned in a smirk that only he could make cool and hot at the same time.

The smile Faith gave him could make the hairs stand up on a balding man's head. "Oh, I'd say...you're hanging in there, Fang. But then, the night's still young."

Spike could feel the temperature between them leaping up several degrees...until an unexpected buzzing at the base of his skull began humming like an old heater. Something that felt..._familiar_...

Immediately, Spike turned toward the scaffolding of the bar's second level, searching for that something...yet seeing nothing but the swarms of twenty-something blood bags in tight clothes, smelling nothing but perfumes, colognes, hot wings and lust all around him.

Faith frowned as she caught the troubled look in Spike's eyes. "Hey, you alright? What's wrong?"

After a beat, Spike shrugged off the feeling, turning back to Faith. "Uh…nothin', I guess. Just…had the weirdest feelin' of déjà vu, is all."

Seeing that her date had calmed down somewhat, Faith decided to return to their original discussion. "So, anyway, back to Angel. From the way he reacted after we arrived from Sunnydale, he ain't too happy over how you've crashed his exclusive little 'Vampire-With-A-Soul' club, right?"

Spike snorted. "Yeah, and it's just bloody typical of that wanker. Soul or not, he's always gotta act like some effin' prima donna. You shoulda seen him way back when. Always had to be strutting around like he was the cock of the bloody walk, like he was so damned special..."

"Well, it's not like there's a lotta vamps walkin' around with a soul _and_ a prophecy about them," Faith shrugged as she swigged her beer.

"Yeah, well, that's just - 'ere, hang about, what?" Spike's eyes scrunched in confusion as he caught one specific word in Faith's last sentence - 'prophecy.'

Off his confused look, Faith looked up in winced in realization. "Oh, damn! I wasn't supposed to say anything about that..."

A shrug. "Oh, well, screw it…when I was in the slammer, see, feeling all depressed about everything, all the people I'd hurt and the two guys I'd off'ed, wondering if there was even any point to being all remorseful if there was no way to achieve the whole redemption thing…one day, Angel told me about something he'd learned. It was this old scroll with a prophecy in it about him…what was it called? Shoeshine? Shiatsu? No, wait, it was…oh, yeah, Shanshu, that was it..."

"Shanshu?" Spike frowned, never having heard the word before.

"Basically, the long 'n short of it is this...If Angel saves enough people, prevents the apocalypse, some other shit like that…one day, he'll become human again," Faith said, her face containing a smile filled with hope. "It's like the ultimate forgiveness. Makes ya think - if a guy like that can earn _that_ kind of reward after all the 'X's and 'O's are tallied up on his scorecard…I figure there's also hope for someone like _me_."

Faith remembered with crystal clarity that day when Angel had confided in her the secret of his pending Shanshu at the Stockton prison. She remembered how her eyes had widened, and how the news had brought the first real smile to her face in a very long time, as she'd cursed the protective glass in front of them for preventing her from wrapping Angel up in a big bear hug. Vampire or otherwise, Angel was the best man that she had ever known, and after everything he'd done for her, after all the good she'd heard he did, she knew that he deserved that reward more than anyone.

But more importantly, the news of Angel's future (whenever it eventually came to pass) had demonstrated to Faith a key lesson, one that had warmed her once-ice cold heart with hope – hope that forgiveness _was_ possible. That redemption wasn't a pipe dream. Even after all the people she'd hurt and killed, after everything that she had done, after all the agonizing remorse she felt as she stewed in her cell…there was still hope.

After all, if Angel could be forgiven, then, maybe one day…perhaps, she could be forgiven, too.

The news, however, brought no such brightness to Spike, who looked shocked, troubled...and also, strangely angry.

"Oh…well, good for 'im, then," the peroxide-blond vampire muttered, looking like he had just swallowed a rancid lemon as he mulled over Faith's news.

_Angel...human again? What the bloody hell did the Pouf ever do to deserve __**that**__? _Spike thought to himself, more angrily than he'd intended_. Is there some kind o' divine bonus point system for disemboweling priests that I wasn't aware of? 'Cause if there is, Captain Hair Gel should've been a real boy a few lifetimes ago..._

Granted, it wasn't so much the idea that his Grandsire could eventually become human again that bothered Spike, as it was the concept that Angel _deserved_ some kind of reward. After all the drained corpses, mutilated babies, gypsy curses and Acathla's he had left behind in his wake, why was it that _he _still got to be the favorite son for whatever High Almighties were sitting around on their fat arses on top of the big, fluffy clouds?

Angel got the large swanky hotel, a kid of his own (though he could _keep_ the creepy little sod, as far as Spike was concerned), he had the fake-imitation Scoobies flocking around him like groupies calling him a Champion, and worst of all, he had Buffy and Dawn - and apparently Faith, too - thinking he wore some kind of shiny golden armor around him.

And now, the big ape even had some sparkly prophecy about him becoming human…oh, hell, Spike could already guess just how fast Buffy would drop those lovely, lacy panties of hers for Angel once they could do the coital hokey-pokey without him turning into King Evil. The bloody git had gotten there first, back in the old days, and still maintained a grip on the blonde chit's heart despite everything that had happened over the past seven years.

Spike, on the other hand, had gotten himself probed and violated by Captain Cardboard's toy soldiers, he had been humiliated by having to put up with the Scoobies' insults for years on end - in particular, from that tosser Xander - while having to save the lot of them time and again, he'd gotten his arse royally kicked in order to protect Dawn from that hell-bitch Glory, he had put up with being Buffy's punching bag, then her crying shoulder, then her punching bag again, then her sodding sex toy (although he certainly would never complain about _that_), then back to a piece of trash in her eyes, he had gone all the way to Africa to have himself tortured just to get a soul for the woman (and become stark-raving bonkers in the process)...and, all for what?

To be shoved onto the back burner while Angel basked in the limelight _again_?

Well, that just wasn't fair.

Shaking himself away from his musings, Spike refocused on the task at hand - trying to charm dear, sweet Faith. "So, you liking this joint so far?"

As she sent a quick look around her surroundings, Faith gave him a slow, lazy nod. "Not bad, I gotta say. And points for the girl-to-guy ratio, too. After spending the last few years locked up with a mess of female types, I'm _sooo_ past the girl-bonding thing. Guess that's why I haven't been training the Slayer mini-me's back at the hotel; dude, all that estrogen brings back too many bad memories."

"Now, 'ere's where I get a bit lost," Spike said, curious. "I know fer a fact that there's no way a bunch o' overweight guards and some rusty iron bars could have held a Slayer at the top of her game for long. And yet, you waited until Angel needed your help to bust outta jail?"

Faith shrugged, trying to keep her answer nonchalant, despite the growing discomfort she felt recalling the last three years of her life behind bars. "Wasn't all bad. Three square meals, nice weight room, movie every third Sunday - could've been worse. And then there's the fact those Council assholes tried to kill me before I turned myself in."

"Any good movies?" Spike queried, ignoring her comment about the Watchers.

"Last one was _Glitter_." Off his raised eyebrow, Faith gave him a weary smile. "Okay, so I guess it couldn't have been worse..."

"Gettin' back to my point, luv…you had the power to get outta there anytime you wanted," Spike asked, but with a softness in his probing question. "You coulda made a break for it any time, and no one there could've stopped you, right?"

Realizing that he wasn't about to let this go, Faith swallowed as she met his eyes, trying to keep the haunted feeling out of her own. "_I_ stopped me. I got…dangerous...for a while."

At that moment, it was as if something in the South Boston girl reached out and connected with a similar something within the British vampire. There was a sense of understanding between them - two outcasts, who had done terrible things in their past, judged by just about everyone to be bad, rotten, irredeemable apples...

Two people who were just trying to do the right thing now. Just looking for a place to belong.

And for a moment, just for a brief second, both the Slayer and the vampire wondered if maybe, just maybe…

At that moment, the bar and grill began blaring the familiar guitar riff of an old favorite of Faith's, the song 'Mysterious Ways' by U2. Ever the Irish Bostonian, Faith's mouth slid into a mischievous grin.

"Now, that's what I'm talkin' about," Faith purred as she stood up from her bar stool, grabbing Spike by the hand. "Now, how 'bout you and me show these guys how it's done?"

Spike nearly balked at the suggestion. Like most guys, there were a lot of things he could do without hesitation - dancing, however, wasn't on that list. It was one of the few things he shared in common with his Grandsire. "Uh, no, I don't think so, luv. Fact is, I don't dance."

"Everyone can dance, Spike," Faith corrected. "Some just do it better than others."

Spike wasn't budging. "You can argue the semantics all you want, Hot Pants, but I ain't dancing."

At that, Faith's eyes narrowed. "Okay, listen up, Nuke Hair. I've been stuck in an all-female correctional facility for the last three years, and the last time I had some fun was when I switched bodies with B and let her farmhand ex enjoy his eleven minutes of vanilla lovin'. I'm all dolled up, and this is the first real date I've had in God knows how long. So either you're a-dancing, or I'm a-dustin'. _Your call_."

Spike felt his hackles rise as he stared into Faith's demanding brown eyes, incredulous that she thought that she could tell him what to do. Him! Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, the Big Bad himself. The nerve, the audacity, the…the outright rudeness!

_Definitely my kind of girl_, Spike then realized with a smile as he stood up. "Okay, Destruct-o Girl…show me what you got."

Faith's grin was sizzling as she led him out to the dance floor. "Don't worry, Big Boy…I'll try not to hurt you. Too much."

_Johnny take a walk with your sister the moon_

_Let her pale light in to fill up your room_

_You've been living underground_

_Eating from a can_

_You've been running away_

_From what you don't understand..._

_Love_

There was barely a sliver of light between them as Faith and Spike drew each other close for a dance. He barely had to do anything at all, as he simply held onto Faith's trim waist and watched as she swayed and rocked around in his grip, twirling and gyrating like some kind of shapely top.

It was just like watching her dance this morning - except there was no admiring from afar, wondering what it would feel like to have those amazing hips grinding against him, feel that toned, supple flesh of her ass wriggling against his crotch. Spike didn't have to wonder. He was already there…and halfway to heaven.

_She's slippy_

_You're sliding down_

_She'll be there when you hit the ground_

As Faith slid further into him, her back flat against his chest, his arms wrapped possessively around her toned midriff, Spike felt himself harden, his head swimming with her wild, yet feminine scent, feeling his cells radiate with a heat that was almost unbearable.

_It's alright, it's alright, it's alright  
She moves in mysterious ways  
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright  
She moves in mysterious ways_

"So…is this what you had in mind that night you were in Buffy's body?" Spike murmured into her earlobe.

The brunette Slayer smiled as she met his eyes, half-closed and swimming in lust. "I…may have said a few things about that," she rasped out, shivering as his cool touch teased the waist of her jeans.

_Johnny take a dive with your sister in the rain  
Let her talk about the things you can't explain  
To touch is to heal  
To hurt is to steal  
If you want to kiss the sky  
Better learn how to kneel_

"Things like…_**I could ride you at a gallop until your knees buckled and your eyes rolled up**_," Spike whispered huskily, his hands sliding across the sensitive skin of Faith's hips. "_**I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like warm champagne**_…"

"_**And you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more**_," Faith finished their little trip down Memory Lane, her eyes closed in rapture and her voice sounding breathless as she savored the feel of his fingers sliding over her, as she reached back and cradled his head, her fingers sliding into his frosted blonde hair. "Yeah…I remember…"

"Not the kind of thing a man forgets," Spike murmured as he let his cheek slide down her slender throat, her blood singing a chorus to his ears. "Still think you could pull off somethin' like that, pet?"

Faith's eyes popped open with a wicked glint. "I might have a few ideas…"

_On your knees, boy!_

With that, the brunette abruptly lurched away from Spike before she jumped onto a nearby table and launched herself up into the air, ignoring the surprised gasps and cries of her captive audience as she landed square onto a table on the second floor, which happened to be pinned down by a tall thin metal pole.

_She's the wave  
She turns the tide  
She sees the man inside the child  
_

Briefly surprised, Spike could only gape as he saw Faith smiling like a Chesire cat, her hips shimmying up and down the pole as she waggled a finger towards him, tempting him to 'come and get it'.

So, he came and got it, following the Slayer upstairs with a massive leap of his own, paying no attention to the shocked 'oohs' and 'aah's of the crowd as the ensouled vampire sought his prize.

_It's alright, it's alright, it's alright  
She moves in mysterious ways  
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright  
She moves in mysterious ways  
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright  
Lift my days, light up my nights_

But just as Spike tried to climb up on the table and continue their sexy tête-à-tête, she shoved him right into a nearby chair. Just as he was about to shout something in anger and building sexual frustration, Faith pressed her finger against his lips, making a 'ssh' sound as she gave him a knowing wink.

With that, she began dancing and swaying to the music against the pole, spinning and twirling around like a strip club dancer as the Chosen One briefly lost herself in the song.

Spike's anger faded as she realized what she was doing. Faith was dancing for _him_. Granted, her little show was starting to attract a large crowd of the rowdies, horny youths and men wolf-whistling at Faith's lithe form loudly as she gyrated and coiled like a sexy she-snake against that metal pole - and for a moment, Spike wanted to tear all their throats out for daring to intrude on their moment.

But then Spike realized again…this was _their_ moment. This show was for him, and the tossers downstairs were only background noise.

Though Spike had to admit, as he sat there, legs propped up on the table while he watched Faith work, he was starting to become rather envious of that pole as he saw her practically make love to it. The longing and temptation within him were building to a torturous crescendo as he watched her dance to the music.

Every bit the siren. Sex made flesh. Temptation incarnate.

Then without warning, Faith sprung and tackled him from his seat to the ground, crawling up against his undead frame as she torturously dragged her body against his. And as she dug her knee into his crotch, causing Spike to growl in pleasure, he could only process one thought - _Screw the damn pole_.

"How you like me now, Blue Eyes?" she hissed, her dark brown eyes glowing with a lusty ember.

Amid the loud shouts of encouragement from the drunken, horny men and women and the pheromones radiating off of Faith, Spike fought to keep the primal urge to vamp out under wraps, biting his lip hard to try to suppress the combined sexual desire and bloodlust as the Slayer's perfect, yet disappointingly concealed breasts came into view.

"I think I like you better…like this," Spike growled out as he grabbed Faith's wrists and flipped her onto her back, sliding up against her as she slowly moved backwards towards the railing.

"Nuh-uh, stud. Never forget who's on top," Faith purred as she shoved her way back to the dominant position on his hips. They subsequently played this game until he had backed her against the railing, his hands grazing her hips as his lips slowly moved alongside her throbbing jugular, Faith arching back in pleasure at the sensation.

_One day you will look...back  
And you'll see...where  
You were held...how  
By this love...while  
You could stand...there  
You could move on this moment  
Follow this feeling_

Through the thick haze of lust, Spike could suddenly sense one of the drunken male patrons move towards him, eager to shove him aside and 'get a piece of that action.' Not even bothering to look up from his place at Faith's throat, Spike rewarded him with a solid, crushing kick to the ribs, sending the competition flying backwards and over a table, doubled over and in pain.

Perhaps not surprisingly, this little outburst of violence only juiced Faith even more. "Let's take this downstairs, handsome."

_It's alright, it's alright, it's alright  
She moves in mysterious ways  
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright  
She moves in mysterious ways  
_

With that, the Slayer gently pushed Spike away before she flipped in an amazing somersault back down onto the first floor, landing on her feet before she smoothly made it to her back, waggling that finger of hers again, tempting Spike to come down and join her.

The British vampire was over the rail before anyone knew it, drawing another round of gasps and shocked shouts from the crowd as he pounced on Faith's prone form like a tiger claiming his prey.

Unbeknownst to him, though, from the rafters - a narrow pair of jealous amber eyes watched Spike and Faith, entwined in each other's embrace, with growing rage…

_It's alright, it's alright, it's alright (Love, love)  
She moves in mysterious ways (Oh no, oh no)  
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright (Move you, spirit, move, making love)  
_

Lifting the Chosen One's leg up abruptly, Faith let out a small gasp of surprise as Spike's hand roamed freely up every muscle in that jeans-clad limb.

"Is that how you like it, pet?" Spike grinned, his eyes smoldering.

Daringly, Faith trailed a hand down his solid chest downwards towards the front of his pants, offering a wicked smile at Spike's surprised gasp. "Why stop there?"

_Spirit moves in mysterious ways (Yeah, move, yeah, move, make love)  
It's alright, it's alright, alright (You move with it, she moves with it)  
Lift my days, light up my nights, love_

And so they continued their game, dancing in a way that normal people could only dream of dancing, and in a way that very few on this earth actually could…until Faith ended up limp in Spike's arms, sweaty and fatigued, her arms wrapped around his head as she panted, her breath sweet and sticky and hot, while the undead Englishman firmly clutched her waist. The afterglow of the best not-sex he'd ever had.

Barely acknowledging the crowd's loud applause and calls for an encore, Faith grinned as her eyes met Spike's, the desire in her eyes plain and naked for him to see. "Wanna take this somewhere quieter?"

Spike's smile was wolf-like. "Read my mind, luv."

* * *

A few minutes later, Spike didn't remember how they'd ended up in the rear alley behind the bar.

He didn't recall how he'd ended up pressed against the wall with Faith's lips pressing hungrily against his, her hands grabbing his ass and her breasts squished against his frame. And as her hot, sticky and delicious tongue melded together with his own, Spike realized something…he really didn't care.

Faith tasted like wild honey, bitter and sweet and spicy at the same time, the raspberry scent of her hair and the spicy, sticky and thick lust emanating from her making his senses explode, again forcing him to fight his overwhelming instincts to sink his fangs into that sweet throat and see just how spicy that Slayer blood of hers tasted.

_Slayer blood…_the thought was enough to jar Spike awake, as he suddenly tried to break off their heated embrace, using words like 'Faith,' 'wait,' 'stop,' 'can't' and 'Buffy.'

At the mention of her mystical sibling's name, Faith pulled back, not really surprised…but looking oddly vulnerable. "Buffy," she echoed quietly, with a bitter sense of understanding.

The brunette laughed harshly as she backed away from him. "Of course. Who the hell was I kidding? Dude asks a girl out, fresh from Sunny-D, has a nice talk - one of the nicest I've had in a while - does a little dance, makes a little out with her…and it still comes back to the great Buffy, doesn't it?"

Off her bitter reply, and sensing the hurt that she was barely keeping under the surface, Spike's eyes softened as he tried to explain. "Faith…look, it's not that I don't…it's just…it's complicated, pet."

"Then lemme take a stab at un-complicating it, huh? We both know B was the reason you went off and got your shiny new soul last year, and because you still hold out hope that one day she'll turn those big green eyes of hers your way and say the magic L-word, you don't wanna risk screwing that up by getting down and dirty with the bad Slayer," Faith sardonically replied. "That about sum it up, blondie?"

Spike wanted to object to that, but he just couldn't do it. He knew that deep down, she was right. "Look…I dunno what you want me to say..."

Wrong answer, Spike knew that as soon as he saw Faith's eyes light up in sheer rage. "How about 'I'm sorry for leading you on?' Or maybe apologizing for l_ying to me_, telling me that this wasn't about Buffy when you asked me out this morning? Or wasting my time thinking that you and me were on the same page, when we weren't even reading _the same damn book?_"

Faith raised her right fist, and for a moment, Spike tensed up - thinking she was going to beat the crap out of him then and there. Instead, she lowered her arm in frustration as the pissed brunette turned those angry eyes to him. "You know what, Spike? You're pathetic! You have all this potential, you could have practically any girl you want, you have one _right freakin' here_ who likes you for who you are, and to hell with the stories I heard about you - and what do you do? You throw it all away, waiting for Little Miss Unattainable to throw you a bone or toss you a scrap of anything that isn't disgust. You're like a lovesick dog dancing for Pavlov, or whatever the hell that prison shrink said the guy's name was. Don't you have any pride? Any self-respect?"

At hearing that, Spike's not-inconsiderable temper lit up, his pride wounded almost as much as his heart, as he got right into Faith's face. "Oh, yeah? Is _that_ right? You think you got me all figured out in that pretty little head of yours? Is that it, then? I've said it before, and I'll say it again now - I'm love's bitch. But at least _I_ accept that. What about _you_, though? When's the last time _you_ ever had anything you loved? Or maybe they're lucky you haven't, seeing as how, from what I hear, you've got this nasty habit of _screwin' over_ the people who love you."

His clear blue eyes were like drills boring into her soul, and Faith fought not to flinch as she stared into them.

"You heard stories about _me_? Well, I heard plenty about you, too, luv. Poor little Faith, had no family of her own, dead Watcher, magnet for losers, never thought she was worth a damn, so what does she do? Turns her back on the only real friends she ever had to shack up with the Big Bad, tries to kill Buffy and Angel as well, because maybe afterwards, you wouldn't have to deal with that cold, empty black hole in your chest where your heart should be. Knowing that you could've been loved, that you could've belonged somewhere, but you just couldn't let yourself do it, because that would make you vulnerable, and you couldn't set yourself up for that kind of disappointment, could you? And you stand there with the gall to judge me because of how _I_ love? I'm surprised you even know the _meaning_ of the word."

As soon as he said the words, though, Spike regretted them. Especially as he saw the hurt that flickered in Faith's expressive brown eyes, which suddenly looked down and away in shame.

It felt like she had been punched in the gut, as the Chosen One had been completely unprepared for the verbal onslaught that came from the vampire's mouth. Like he could see all the dirty little parts hidden in her soul. All the dark empty places that she hid away from. That caused her pain. That kept her awake at night when she wondered if there was anyone out there that could ever love her. If she was even worthy of an emotion like that.

Cursing his short temper, Spike clumsily tried to make amends. "Wait…damn it, I…Faith, listen, I didn't mean -"

The young woman cut him off with an upheld hand, Spike watching as her pouty lips formed into a thin tight line, her brown eyes hardening like rock as she matched her gaze to his. _What was I thinking, wanting to hang out with this guy? Talk about a complete waste of an evening..._

"I think it's safe to say that this date's officially **_over_**," Faith coldly spat, turning on her heel to leave, leaving Spike hating himself…

…when suddenly, five Harbingers came plummeting down from the rooftops, surrounding them as they brandished their deadly, razor-sharp knives.

Faith growled as she reached for her favorite dagger within her jacket, the one with a curved handle and a split blade - a tool designed purely for killing. "You guys so picked the _wrooong_ night for this, I swear to God!"

"Oh, no, dearie - the stars, they tell me that tonight's the _perfect_ night for this," came an eerily soft, yet sharp and accented voice.

From just above on the fire escape, down plunged Drusilla, wrapped in a slinky black dress, looking just as pale and lovely and demented as Spike remembered her to be.

In a flash, an astonished Spike finally understood what that familiar 'buzzing' sensation inside the bar had meant, and he cursed himself for not figuring it out before now. Time was, he would have instantly known his Sire was close by.

"Dru." The name fell from his lips in stunned disbelief.

"Hello, dear heart," the mad vampiress grinned, that glazed look in her eyes revealing the sheer depths of her complete insanity. "Naughty ol' Spoike, you've been _such_ a bad kitten. Playing with the other mice while I've been away."

In between keeping one eye on the Bringers Faith regarded this weird broad in strange fascination, before the name 'Dru' finally clicked in her head. _Wait a sec..._

"Dru?" The Slayer turned to Spike. "Dru, as in 'Drusilla?' That whack-ass vamp chick that Sired you?"

"Yup, that's her," Spike answered warily, never taking his eyes off his Sire. The newly ensouled vampire was fairly sure this wasn't the First Evil masquerading as her again. He had spent enough time in the First's company, while that damn Turok-Han had been torturing him, to tell the difference.

The thing was, Spike hadn't seen Drusilla for a couple of years now, not since his failed attempt to woo Buffy by killing the crazy bint. And yet now, here she was, like a black bolt out of the blue, back in his un-life - as beautiful and deadly and crazy as ever.

Without warning, Drusilla clapped her hands twice and uttered "Gggrr-ruff!" to her eye-less, mouth-less, knife-wielding companions, at which point the Bringers charged the pair of heroes; fully intending to kill them both.

"Oh, bugger," Spike muttered as he and Faith went to work, the dark-haired Slayer instantly battling two of the Bringers while Spike fended off three of the eyeless minions of the First Evil.

Already in a foul mood, Faith wasted no time in pummeling her attackers, ducking one knife-handed swipe from a Bringer before she caught the enemy full in the face with her trademark right cross, following up with a two-footed jumping kick to the chest that knocked it down. She whirled around and caught the other demon - the one sneaking up behind her - with a _mawashi geri_ karate kick to the jaw, then she grabbed the Bringer's right arm, reeled it over her shoulder…

KER-RACK!

The Harbinger grunted in pain as its arm was snapped in two, before Faith decked it with a solid left fist straight between the eyes.

"Not a good day to be a bad guy, is it, Stevie Wonder?" Faith smiled in a feral fashion before she quickly had to defend herself against the other Bringer, who was trying to slice open her jugular.

Spike, not exactly in a pleasant mood himself after his little 'tiff' with Faith, vamped out as he advanced upon his own targets. He had a major score to settle with these blind bastards ever since they'd abducted and tortured him in that damn cave at the First's bidding. And in the ensouled vampire's view, it was long past time to even things up.

As he bobbed and weaved effortlessly under one Bringer's hacks and slashes, William the Bloody smirked in an evil fashion. "Gonna have to do better than that, mate..."

With that, he blasted the First's minion with a brutal uppercut, knocking it to the floor. But that brief opening allowed another Bringer to tackle Spike onto the ground, knocking him down as the third Bringer attempted to drive its knife into his throat, Spike barely catching the deadly blade and holding it only inches away from him.

For her part, Faith plunged her own knife into the slashing Bringer's chest, twisting so the wound wouldn't close, before reeling the eyeless thing in, grabbing its head and twisting hard; the demon's neck snapping like a twig as it collapsed in a dead heap.

Drusilla clapped her hands again, presumably to the other Bringer near Faith that was just getting to its feet. "Fetch."

Faith tensed as she got set for battle, only to be surprised as the Bringer ducked past her and over to where Spike and the other Bringers were fighting…

…leaving Drusilla and Faith. Alone. With only a few feet of space between them.

Faith with her dark, angry eyes and sharp, jagged knife - and Drusilla with her mad, yet predator-like gaze and deadly nails.

Two angry queen bees with their stingers poised and ready to strike.

Drusilla giggled in mad glee, wriggling her fingers like claws. "Can you hear your funeral gongs? Such lovely music…perfect for dancing."

A scowling Faith shook her head, not even bothering to try and understand this psycho. "Then let's mambo, _bitch_."

With that, Faith unleashed a wild, hard kick that connected with Dru's face, staggering her backwards. She followed up with a fast and furious blur of well-aimed kicks and punches, each harder than the next.

However, with nearly one and a half centuries of experience under her belt Drusilla began to evade the Slayer's attacks, her movements jerky and awkward-looking, but effective no less, as the vampire managed to get in a few punches of her own; one crushing blow rocking Faith backwards and staggering into a wall.

"All good mice should know their place when the Queen of Cats comes home," Drusilla uttered in that soft, accented tone of hers as she advanced on Faith.

Without warning, Faith's leg shot out and caught the vampiress in the stomach, knocking her backwards. Dropping her knife in favor of her stake, Faith glowered in true Slayer-like fashion. "Don't get too comfortable in that straightjacket, Crazy Flakes. This mouse bites. _Hard_."

With a burst of agility and skill, Faith leapt into the air and delivered a spinning two-footed double kick to Drusilla, which knocked her into the brick wall of the alley. Pressing her advantage, Faith connected with two solid punches to both Dru's face and stomach before she grabbed a handful of the mad demon's hair and slammed her head into the wall, Faith's stake-wielding hand reared back to deliver the death blow.

But the time she used to draw her hand back to finish Dru off cost Faith a second…a second that seemed to last an eternity. And for a vampire as deadly and as cunning as Drusilla the Mad, one second was all that was needed.

In a flash, Drusilla's hand flew to Faith's throat, squeezing in a death grip as she pushed the Chosen One backwards into the opposite wall. Faith, caught off-guard by the move, was too surprised to avoid looking at the two talon-like fingers that Drusilla suddenly raised in front of her eyes.

Spike, who still had his hands full with his own battle, was trying to keep an eye on the other fight even as he kicked the Bringer on top of him off and he dodged the blades of the three others.

He didn't understand what Dru's game was. Why on earth would she have sic'ed all of these blasted blind sods on him while dealing with a Slayer herself? It didn't make sense, unless…

…_unless I'm not what she came for_, Spike realized in sickening realization, especially when he saw Dru's fingers catching the gaze of Faith's brown eyes.

"Faith! Don't look in her eyes!" Spike barked out in warning, trying to free himself of these minions in time to get to the Chosen One.

But out of the corner of his eye Spike could see that his warning was too late, as Faith's thrashing slowly began to cease, a strange, dazed and glazed look appearing on her face.

"Wh…whu…what are you…d-doing to…me...?" the Boston girl weakly croaked out, trying to push Dru's clammy and cold hand off her throat, but something…a binding power…held her in place, numbing her mind and stealing her free will.

The irises in those greenish, catlike eyes widened slightly in unholy power. Staring into Dru's haunting eyes was like being sucked into a black hole - once you got pulled in, there was no way out.

"That's it, dearie, don't fight it," Dru whispered almost lovingly. "Be…in me. Be…in my eyes."

Spike had seen this act too many times over the decades with his Sire. He, better than anyone, knew how Drusilla's hypnotic powers came in real handy when she decided to freeze her victims in place before she killed them. It was a trick that not many vampires could pull off - the only other Aurelian vampire Spike knew of that could do it was the Master himself, his Great-great-grandsire - but for those like Drusilla who could do it, it made them all the more powerful and dangerous.

Sometimes, if the victim was lucky, death came with a simple bite into the jugular. Other times, if Dru felt 'playful', she would use those deadly nails of hers - filed until they were razor-sharp, the nails of her right hand, in particular, were coated with all manner of foul poisons. Sometimes cyanide or arsenic, strychnine, ricin or even botulism, the deadliest of all poisons.

That was why Kendra had died so quickly that night; Dru had been in a strychnine mood, Spike recalled. As soon as the breath-restricting, spasm-inducing poison had entered her bloodstream, the beautiful Jamaican girl had been doomed; that good old Slayer healing might have been able to slow down the blood loss from a slit throat, but on top of the strychnine, there was nothing the Slayer essence could have done to save its host.

Here and now, the horrified Spike could smell what flavor Dru was in the mood for tonight - cyanide. If those nails nicked Faith's jugular and mixed with her blood, Spike knew she would be dead within minutes. She would fall into a coma, that amazing body of hers would shake with the onset of seizures, her lungs would fill with fluid, making breathing impossible and finally, her heart - that adventurous, wild, brave and strangely vulnerable heart of hers - would give out under the strain.

Faith would be just another dead, pretty flower at such a tender young age, like every other Slayer before her.

And at that moment, something inside Spike snapped. He didn't know what it was, but he knew, more than anything, that he'd be damned before he let that happen.

With a loud, animalistic growl, Spike clotheslined the two Bringers in front of him, knocking them to the ground. He let the demon in him fully take control as he reached across to one of the Bringers and his claws literally tore its throat out in one motion, his blood-soiled right hand then reaching up to grab the wrist of the last one, breaking it before he spun the minion around, tore the knife from its grip and viciously slit its throat.

Firmly in Drusilla's thrall, Faith was now completely defenseless, her eyes glassy and dazed, staring at the crazed vampiress as if she was the loveliest thing in the world, swaying back and forth to match the grinning madwoman's movements, like a marionette held up only by her puppeteer's whims.

"It's past bedtime," Drusilla cooed as she reared back her poison-laced fingernails, ready to send the entranced Slayer into the afterlife. "Time for all good girls to say night-night…"

"FAITH!" shouted Spike as he dropped the dead Bringer in his grip to the ground and hurled the knife twirling through the air…

…which thudded through the palm of Dru's hand, just as it was roughly midway to Faith's throat.

Hissing in pain, Drusilla cried out as she clutched her bloody right hand with the Bringer's dagger sticking out of it, staggering backwards.

In a flash, Spike dispatched the third Bringer with a quick, savage snap of its neck before taking a stake in his pocket, grabbing the last one and ramming the wooden shaft under its chin and up through into the brain, killing it instantly. With a burst of vampiric speed, Spike then leapt in front of Faith (now on the ground, but still dazed and effectively neutralized) as he stared at his Sire.

"Not that I mind a little girl-on-girl action every now 'n then, Dru, but... mind if I cut in?" he asked cheekily.

Dru's eyes narrowed in anger over Spike's protective display, even as she yanked the knife out of her hand and let it drop to the ground. "Naughty Spoike…I think I should be very cross with you. Running around with thoughts of nasty Slayers in your head."

"Deal with it, luv," Spike shot back as the infamous former couple slowly circled each other. "So, what's with the Helen Keller platoon? Lemme guess - you got bored, so ya threw in with Big Daddy Evil, then?"

"It's a celebration," Dru declared dreamily. "I can see the party. There'll be a Light…and dancing and hats and tea and songs…a symphony of screaming through the stars. Come and join us, Spoike! Come and see! What fun it will be, what a grand time will be had by all!"

Spike scoffed. "Right, 'ere's the crazy ranting part, right on schedule. Seriously, luv, did I ever miss that - except for the part where I _didn't_. And as for your bloody party, Dru, sorry but these days I don't do hats. Or tea. And definitely not songs."

"Someone needs a spanking..." Drusilla sing-songed warningly.

Spike grinned in wicked fashion. "Well, since you asked so nicely, Ducks…" Crooking his fingers invitingly. "...come to Daddy."

With sudden and violent motion, he and Dru began trading fierce blows as the alleyway echoed with the sound of their battle.

With a growl, Spike picked up the female vampire and threw her into the side of a nearby dumpster, moving in while she was slumped against the dented metal of the waste bin and rocking her head with several hard, successive and fury-filled punches to the temple.

Spike had no idea what it was…maybe it was the falling out he'd had with his crazy Sire way back when, maybe it was the fight with those damn Bringers just now, or maybe it was just the sight of Faith, who was normally so strong and sure of herself, looking so helpless in Dru's clutches…but for whatever reason, he just wanted to knock Drusilla's block off.

"Just remember, Dru - this is gonna hurt _you_ a lot more than it hurts me," Spike growled between punches.

Unfortunately, Drusilla was somewhat stronger than her offspring - her two extra decades of age granting her a slight but crucial edge in this match, as she grabbed Spike by the throat and hoisted him up into the air. Spike could only wince as he struggled in Drusilla's grip.

"You've been a bad boy, my li'l dumpling," Drusilla smiled maliciously, rearing back her balled fist. "Now Mummy has to dole out the spanking."

"Spank **_this_**, bitch!" a female voice called out, causing Drusilla to turn…right into the speeding fist of an infuriated Faith.

The blow sent Drusilla flying backwards several feet, knocking her (and Spike) down to the ground.

Spike looked up to see Faith eyeing his ex with cold, furious eyes, her ample chest heaving up and down from angry breaths, perfect teeth bared in a sneer... and looking rather luscious, if he did say so himself.

"You okay?" Faith rasped out as she offered Spike her hand.

"I'll live," Spike replied as he accepted the offer, making his way to his feet to stand alongside her.

The odds had now shifted significantly. While Drusilla was quite insane, even she knew that without help, taking on both a pissed-off Slayer and an ensouled, white-hat vampire at the same time was suicide. And that simply wouldn't do. She had plans for Spike…and very special plans for this wicked girl that, as the bees in her head were whispering to her said, had wormed her way into her Childe's heart.

"No fair to change the rules of the game in midplay," Drusilla pouted as she got to her feet, before that cold, deranged smile appeared on her face again as she stared at the two heroes. The psychotic gleam in the insane creature's eyes made Faith shiver just a little.

"But don't worry, my sweets…there'll be plenty of time to play later. And such wicked games we'll play!"

With a flick of the wrist, Drusilla suddenly dropped two metallic spheres-given to her by Warren-to the ground, and the alleyway was almost instantly flooded with thick, grey smoke.

The smoke bombs had no effect on Spike, apart from nullifying his ability to see and smell his Sire. Faith on the other hand started coughing and gasping as Spike tried to waft away the fog, her hands automatically clenching into fists for the final confrontation with Drusilla…

…only to find that the insane vampiress had vanished, not a trace of her to be seen after the smoke cleared away.

Spike cursed as he looked around the alley, empty now except for the corpses of the Bringers. "Well…at least that daft bird still knows how to make a grand exit."

Faith shook her head, rubbing her temples as she tried to shake off the effects of Dru's mind control. She almost felt like she was waking up from a three-day drinking binge, her head throbbing and her thoughts still fuzzy.

Noticing her wounded body language, a concerned Spike reached for her shoulder. "Faith, are you -?"

"Back off," Faith swatted his hand away, guardedly keeping her distance, which…kinda hurt Spike's feelings.

Off the vulnerable expression on the British vamp's face, and realizing that he had actually saved her life just now, Faith hastily amended, "Um…I'm fine, thanks." She clutched her head painfully. "Ow! God-damn, what the hell did that bitch do to me?"

Spike pseudo-sighed. "That'd be this thing Dru's got up her sleeve, luv. I'm assuming you read up on her a bit, if you did your homework on me. You know about how she receives visions, right?"

Off her nod, Spike continued. "Well, that's not the only way Drusilla's not like other vamps. She has…gifts."

"Yeah? Well, her presents suck," Faith said, shaking her head as she attempted to regain her bearings.

"They really don't," Spike said with a wry smile. "Even in life, she had psychic abilities. After Angelus turned her, the powers stayed - she has a talent fer getting into people's heads, twisting what's inside, making 'em her playthings. She…likes control. Probably because the Pouf warped Dru's brain so much before he turned her that she likes to re-enact all that."

"So the nut job screws with people's heads," Faith mused. "Like we're toys to her."

"Well, she always did love her stupid dolls," Spike shrugged.

"Keep going," Faith encouraged him. "I need to know everything I can get on Miss Crazy Pants for next time."

"Next time?" Spike scoffed, not believing what he was hearing. "After what just happened? I don't think so. Next time you see her, run the other way. If ya fancy still breathing, that is."

Now fully awake, the slowly building anger blasting away the cobwebs from her brain like a flamethrower, a glaring Faith drew closer to Spike, her posture screaming 'fight.' "Now, I _know_ you didn't just give me an order, let alone one where I run and hide like a little girl. Not even _you_ would be that stupid, right?"

Spike didn't back down. "Dru's too dangerous, woman - believe me, I know whereof I speak. She's already bagged herself one Slayer that I know of - that Jamaican bint with the nice rack and the temper problem, what came before you."

"Kendra," Faith corrected him, having heard Giles and Buffy mention the name of her dead predecessor before.

"Whatever," Spike waved it off. "Point is, with her arsenal? Dru's bloody well out of your league. Out of Buffy's league too, if the way Rupes could hypnotize her way back when is any indication. You'd do well to let either me or Angel handle her; we're the only ones her mojo won't work on."

"I can take care of myself," Faith bristled. "Always have."

"Sure you can, pet. Like you took care of yourself just now? When she had you dancin' like a puppet on a string, before Dru nearly added Slayer number two to her record?" Spike retorted, drawing closer to the angrier-by-the-second Faith. "Listen - Dru's unpredictable, she's crafty and she's got way too many weapons in her bag o' tricks for _you_ to handle. You try 'n fight her like that again, she'll kill you 'til you're good and dead."

"Spare me the warnings, Sid Vampish," Faith scoffed. "I _do _have a little experience in taking down vamps with killer creds. Ask Kakistos. Or Angelus."

"Try pullin' the other one, Slayer," Spike said mockingly, as he was familiar with both instances. "One Master vamp which you killed _only _with Buffy's help, and another who you beat by getting high on mystical junk and letting him take a sip of your arteries. Oh, yeah - you're a regular Xena Warrior Princess, you are."

The heat in Faith's glare was almost nuclear. "Screw you, asshole."

As he saw the heat, and the hurt, still burning in her eyes, Spike softened his tone and his eyes. "Look, Faith…I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Faith wasn't buying it. "It's a pride thing with me, Spike. A Slayer thing. I wouldn't expect you to understand. Besides, you barely even know me. What the hell does it matter to you what happens to me?"

As she turned on her heels to go, Spike's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him.

"Hey."

His eyes were hard, yet somehow soft at the same time with an emotion that Faith had only seen directed at her from Angel. Something that looked like…caring.

"It matters," Spike said, his tone gentle enough to tug at the strings of her heart. "It matters a heck of a lot."

The way Spike said it, so softly, so genuinely, as if he really meant it, that was enough to melt the iciness of her glower, if only for a moment. But this was getting way too complicated for Faith's tastes.

Sure...Spike was funny, and cool, a good time to be around, and brave, and he'd saved her life a couple of times in the last 24 hours...but if he was still so hung up on Buffy, then there was no way that she was going to drop THAT level of drama on her head; especially not with a freakin' apocalypse looming over the horizon.

That kind of three-ringed circus of pain might be fine for Angel, Buffy and the others, but she'd rather keep her eyes on the prize. Faith had made it through life so far without a 'soul mate' or a boyfriend or any other attachments, and she had done all right (at least, from a certain point of view - disregarding all the betrayal and killing and years of jail time).

Still, like the old saying went - if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Besides, while Spike was a pretty hot-looking piece of ass, the guy was still a vampire, and it wasn't in her job description to date the enemy. 'Vampire Slayer,' not 'Vampire Layer' and all that.

So, with a soft but firm hand, Faith slowly removed Spike's grip from her arm. "Thanks for looking out for me just now, Blue Eyes, but like I said…it's a Slayer thing. The next time I see that bitch, her ass is mine."

Spike, frustrated, realized that there was no way that he was going to talk her out of this. At least, not tonight. Hopefully, there would be time enough for that later. There was no way he was letting her face Drusilla again alone. Not if he had anything to say about it.

At that moment, Faith's cell phone buzzed with a text alert, prompting her to open it and read the message from Wesley:

EMERGENCY. MEET BACK AT HYPERION ASAP.

Sighing, she showed Spike the message. "Duty calls, dude."

"The man's got a bloody uncanny sense of timing," Spike dryly mused as he looked away for a moment. "Uncanny on how bad it is. You wanna take a cab back, or -?"

Spike had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when he heard Faith's voice call out above him, directing his attention to the roof…where a waiting and saucily grinning Faith called, "Last one there's gotta kiss Andrew!"

And then she began sprinting away, leaping to the next rooftop.

Despite himself, Spike couldn't help but to smile a little bit. "Oh, yeah…definitely my kind of girl."

With undead super-strength he leapt upwards to the roof to catch up with the brunette Slayer, Spike smiling to himself as he caught sight of the spirited twinkle in her eyes, the excited grin on her face that matched his own as they leapt across rooftop after rooftop in a race that few others could ever manage.

The music had ended, true…but this dance between them was far from over.

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Fred's room**

**Now**

* * *

Fred sat miserably in the corner of her room, embarrassed at her outburst, furious at Gunn for making her angry enough to rant that way in front of everyone and…and, well, just confused over everything that had happened between her and her former boyfriend during the last few weeks.

It had all been so perfect once, so wonderful…they were just Winifred and Charles. Gunn and Fred. Their bodies, their souls just fit together naturally, like peanut butter and chocolate. Ice cream and sprinkles. Daytime and soap operas. Protons and electrons.

Funny how one little murder - even if it was of another murderer, a serial killer and a truly evil man once you stripped away his pleasant, professorial exterior - could undo all of that so quickly. Funny how a need, a yearning, a _demand _for payback...for vengeance...could reveal a side of you that you never knew existed.

A part of you that you never knew...never wanted to know...was there.

The heavy knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Fred? Open up. We've gotta talk."

Fred sucked in a deep breath. "Go away, Charles. There's nothing to talk about."

"There's plenty to talk about, and you know it," Gunn replied heatedly. "Fred...we've been avoiding this for weeks. I can't take it anymore. And I know you...deep down, you can't take it anymore, either."

"Well, if I didn't want to talk about it before, what makes you think I want to talk about it _now_? What with everything that's going on around us?" the woman snapped bitterly.

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do, Fred?" Gunn retorted, a note of desperation appearing in his voice. "Keep on doing what we've been doing and ignoring what's happening to us, until we end up hating each other? Is that what you want? Because I don't want that. I'll _never_ want that. Fred...baby, please. Open up and talk to me..."

'_Baby.' He called me 'baby,'_ a guilty Fred swallowed as tears began to form in her eyes. _Even after everything that's happened, even after what I did to…I'm still his baby. He still thinks of me as __**his**__ girl..._

Taking in a deep breath, Fred got herself under control before she slowly stood up and walked to the door, turning the handle to reveal a concerned-looking Gunn standing in her doorway.

Gunn struggled not to gape at the sight of his former girlfriend…so small and petite, the way her dark brown hair flowed down her slender shoulders like a waterfall, the way her soft baby brown eyes glistened and sparkled…it was enough to take his breath away sometimes. He'd often wondered if Fred knew just how beautiful she really was, or if it just escaped her notice as randomly as some ridiculously brilliant quantum physics equation she would just casually throw around like an offhanded joke.

Fred shivered under his intense gaze. The way those battle-hardened, street-wise eyes of his could regard her so preciously, so lovingly…it was enough to make her hate herself. She wasn't worthy of that kind of love from this man. Not anymore. _Not after what I did..._

Brushing that thought away, Fred motioned him to enter, Gunn closing the door behind him as he did. As he regarded her room, looking exactly as a brilliant yet absentminded genius would keep it - an empty pizza box haphazardly laying on the coffee table, clothes strewn everywhere, numbers and science equations scribbled furiously all over the walls in a rainbow of colors - Gunn bitterly realized how this place, once as much a home to him as his own room, felt so utterly foreign now.

Charles hated it that so much distance had grown between them since Oliver Seidel's murder.

With a heavy sigh, Fred crossed her arms. "Well, you wanted to talk. So, talk."

"Look, I..." Gunn started awkwardly. "I'm sorry about what happened downstairs just now, okay? I guess with everything that's happened lately, I've been a little testier than normal."

"I always thought of it as 'prickly,' actually," Fred offered gently, with a crooked smile. "Like...like an angry puppy, y'know? I never really minded it, to be honest. It's...kinda cute."

Gunn's hopeful smile at her remark only made her feel worse, her smile fading as she looked away. "Don't."

"Don't what?" a confused Gunn asked.

"Don't give me that look," Fred sadly shook her head. "The happy puppy dog look."

Gunn laughed bitterly. "Right. Sorry, I forgot. That's not what a guy's supposed to do with the ex-other-half-of-his-heart-and-soul, is it?"

Every instinct in her mind told Fred to run, because this conversation could not possibly end well. "Charles..."

"No, Fred," the black man shook his head. "We can't avoid talking about this forever. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to keep feeling like this. I _hate_ this!"

"Well, what the hell do you want _me_ to say, huh?" the Texan woman replied heatedly, her voice wavering even as it was rising several octaves. "You think I don't hate this either? Every time I see you walk into a room, all I want to do is hold you, touch you, remember how you smelled when you were holding me…"

"So why don't you?" Gunn asked softly, vulnerably.

Gunn had never liked feeling vulnerable, he simply wasn't used to it; the life he had led since escaping that damned orphanage wouldn't allow it. The only one he'd been able to open up to in the old days was his little sister, Alonna; and even then only in private, where the rest of his crew couldn't see. Growing up the way he did, Gunn always had to be strong and hard like a rock, tucking away his emotions deep into the hidden places of his heart.

Like it or not, it had been the only way he could protect those under his wing, keep them alive for as long as possible.

But then, this shy, sweet, pretty little thing from Texas had a way of bringing things out in him that Gunn had never thought possible…something that was both a blessing and a curse, as of late.

But Charles was willing to take both good and the bad, because no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, smother it back into the dark places within him, all he wanted to do was to have Winifred Burkle back in his arms again.

"Because I don't _deserve_ to!" Fred angrily declared in response to Gunn's question, her brown eyes slitted and filling with tears. "Because I'm ugly inside, Charles! I'm sick! And evil! Why else would I have done what I did with Professor Seidel? There's no other explanation, right?"

Gunn took hold of her shoulders, adamantly shaking his head. "No, Fred, you're not -"

"Oh yes I am! You just can't see it, because you don't _want_ to see it. As soon as I found out that it was that..._bastard_...who'd ruined my life, not to mention killed those other four students, God help me...but I never wanted anything more in my life than to watch Professor Seidel _die_! I wanted him to suffer the way he made me suffer, the way he made me hurt. And that moment when I finally got what I wanted…"

Trembling, Fred looked away from Gunn, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "I hurt the one person in the world who meant everything to me. I ruined the best thing I had in my life. And I can't ever take it back. Ever." A bitter laugh. "I guess that murderous son of a bitch won after all, didn't he?"

"Only if you let him," Gunn gently offered, turning her face towards him. _Please, baby, please don't let him win…_

Fred shook her head in disgust as she turned away from him again. "Oh, sure..._now_ it's my choice?"

Gunn stiffened. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means that this conversation wouldn't be happening right now - we might never even have broken up - if you'd just stayed out of it, Charles!" Fred snapped, wheeling around to face him again. "Why couldn't you just take the hint that I didn't want you to get involved? That night, of all nights - why couldn't you have just _stayed out of it_?"

Gunn's fuse began to crackle and spark with jealousy as he remembered the events of that fateful night. "Oh, but it was alright for you to include _Wesley_ in your little mission? Of all the people that you could've gone to, you went to _him_? Knowing how he felt about you? Knowing that _I_ knew how he felt about you? How do you think that made _me_ feel, Fred? Knowing that you could go to him and not me? Knowing that I couldn't…"

_Face it, Gunn, you can't give her what she needs, _echoed the cold and hollow voice of Wesley in Charles's mind from the night he and his former friend-turned-rival had come to blows over Fred.

Ignoring the bitter memory, Gunn finished with a deflated, "...that I couldn't protect you like you needed?"

"_You_ needed to protect _me_? My Lord, but you're actually serious, aren't you? Charles - maybe you've forgotten, but I survived five years in Pylea, all alone! Did it _never_ occur to you that I didn't need your protection that night? That I was trying to protect _you_ from the consequences of _my _actions?" Fred shouted, emotion overwhelming her.

"Why did I go to Wesley to give me what I needed, to personally kill the man who tried to kill me? Charles, it was because I knew that helping me take a human life wasn't something he'd lose any sleep over. Because like it or not, that's simply the kind of man Wesley is now. I could see it in his eyes, that night he gave me his spell book and drove me to the university. But you...Charles, you're a hero. An honest-to-goodness hero. Even through all the horrible things that happened during your childhood, after what happened to your family, after everything we've faced together...you're still a good and decent man."

Fred turned away and faced the mirror of her dresser, staring with emptiness at the reflection of the woman she saw there. The reflection of someone she no longer recognized.

"I just...I never wanted you to see me like that," Fred quietly admitted, her voice wavering as tears began cascading down her cheeks. "I never wanted you to see the kind of...monster...that I really am. How much anger, how much..._hate_ was inside me that night. Because if you did...maybe I'd hurt you. Or worse...you wouldn't love me anymore."

Gunn turned his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, fighting to swallow the lump forming in his throat at the sight of his broken-hearted ex-girlfriend.

That night had haunted him for weeks now. Ever since he was a teenager, he had spent his life protecting humans from demons and vampires. He'd lost track of how many people he and his crew had saved in the projects during the old days, some of them as old as Seidel had been.

True, in order to survive on the streets Gunn had to do some things that other people - members of the LAPD, for example - deemed as unscrupulous or unlawful. But those things had never been done at the expense of another human being's life. Never _murder_. Killing Oliver Seidel, even though many might say he'd richly deserved his fate…that was something that still shook him to the core.

But as black as the mark was that the professor's murder had left on his own soul...Gunn knew he'd do it a thousand times over if it meant that Fred's soul was spared that particular taint. _Why can't she see that?_

_Or maybe I'm the one who just can't accept what she's tryin' to tell me_, Charles cogitated, after replaying the conversation in his mind. _Maybe it's Angel's old-fashioned attitude rubbin' off on me or whatever, but the idea of Fred wanting the right to be able to personally commit murder? The woman I love wantin' to do that sort of thing, I just don't have no truck with that..._

Gunn gently laid his hands on Fred's soft upper arms, slowly turning her around as his dark eyes met her teary brown ones. "Hey...me not love you anymore? Never gonna happen. No matter what. And we're talkin' never, ever and always here."

_What? Is he serious?_ Fred desperately wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that Gunn's brief fling with Gwen Raiden a while back had meant nothing. Wanted to feel like she deserved that tenderness in her ex-boyfriend's eyes.

Dear God, at that moment Fred felt like she would give anything to be able to believe she _deserved_ Gunn's declarations of love…

At that moment, though, even through the closed door they both heard a loud smashing sound from downstairs in the lobby, followed by angry voices.

Off the muffled commotion, Fred and Gunn exchanged worried glances.

"What the hell was that?" the black man asked.

With a silent sigh that bordered on relief over having a way out of this intense discussion with the man she'd never stopped loving, Fred said, "I guess there's only one way to find out."

As they quickly strode to the door to investigate downstairs, Gunn cursed the timing of that noise, muttering, "Explosions, ugly demons, personal drama...damn, if I'd wanted to sign on for this, I woulda gone to Hollywood."

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Darla's room**

**A few minutes earlier**

* * *

Connor's face was one of pure focus. Centering all of his attention on the matter at hand. "You sure you're ready for this?"

A determined Dawn stared back, her gaze as level and calm as her voice. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Her boyfriend smirked. "On three, then. One…two…"

A mischievous smile on her face, Dawn beat him to the punch. "Three!"

And then, the pair of intertwined hands tensed and wrenched against each other, as the miracle child and the Key arm-wrestled each other, neither one holding back.

It had been some time since Angel, Buffy and Cordelia had gone on their Jasmine hunt, leaving behind a pensive Connor - still shaken by Cordelia's presence, which served only to remind him of the terrible things he had done while under the Beastmaster's influence - and a worried Dawn, who was scared that without help from the others, that her big sister, her first surrogate big brother and the young woman who had become as close as a sister to her, would all meet a terrible end.

Spike and Faith, meanwhile, had slipped out on their date - which, in retrospect, didn't surprise Dawn all that much, as she had seen the way those two had been brazenly flirting with each other since they got to the hotel. Still, it was something of a shock for Dawn to think that Spike and Faith, of all people, would have hooked up - given how William the Bloody was supposedly still hung up on her big sister.

Darla had slipped out herself for some alone time, returning her focus to figuring out the mystery behind her newly-returned vampiric abilities sans-undead state.

Deciding that she had to take her mind off of things, even for just a little while, Dawn had convinced a slightly reluctant Connor to help her test out her powers. But after effortlessly bending metal objects around her room and lifting heavy furniture like the bed, her dresser and a few chairs over her head -with one hand - got boring, Miss Summers decided that she needed a real challenge. And there just happened to be a super-cute and totally super-strong boyfriend in the room, so…

As their arm-wrestling contest dragged on, Connor was amazed at how strong the slender brunette had become since her supernatural makeover a few hours ago. Sure, she'd fought surprisingly well for a non-powered human last night; but he could tell that her physical strength was only too ordinary then. And now, he was finding that he had to put quite a bit of his own super-strength into his arm just to keep pace with his girlfriend, who looked like she was having a blast instead of locked in a grueling test of physical will and domination.

"Looking a little tired, there, Wonder Kid," Dawn smirked as she gained the slightest of advantages, her arm slowly pushing Connor's arm towards the table. "Ready to give it up?"

Connor's eyes narrowed, flashing a smirk of his own as his nostrils flared with air. "Give it up? No. Turn it up? You bet your cute ass."

A surprised Dawn had only a moment to blush red at Connor's unexpected come-on before his grip suddenly flooded with power, turning the tide of their contest as he took control, overpowering Dawn's arm and slowly pushing her slender limb downwards, only inches from the table and victory.

Realizing that Connor had blatantly distracted her to gain the upper hand in their contest, Dawn smiled wickedly as she thought of a way to turn the tables on him.

Reaching over quickly, the brunette snuck her free hand around the back of his head and drew the guy's head towards her, kissing him full on the mouth. Connor, effectively distracted if not displeased, was completely thrown off his game…long enough for Dawn to take advantage, slamming his hand down on the table to steal not only a kiss, but a victory in the arm-wrestling contest.

A pleased Dawn raised her arms in victory, shouting 'Woo-hoo!' as she basked in her triumph. "Summers wins! Summers wins! And the crowd goes wild!"

"Hey! You cheated!" Connor protested, though he was far from angry, as the taste of Dawn's raspberry lip gloss lingered on his mouth.

Dawn only smiled innocently. "Who, me? I don't know what you're talking about. I think you just can't take the fact that you got your butt kicked by a girl."

A mischievous smile spread on Connor's face. "Oh, I'll show you a butt-kicking. C'mere!"

With that, he quickly jumped up out of his chair and sprang towards Dawn, who was now scurrying away in a fit of laughter as the male teen chased her around the room. "Don't touch me! I'll scream, I mean it, Con! Ahhh! Stop it!"

In one pounce, Connor tackled Dawn onto Darla's bed, the slender brunette squirming in playful delight as her boyfriend began to mercilessly tickle her, his hands and fingers attacking her sides.

"Ahh-hahaha! Connor!" Dawn rasped in between gasps of air, as her lungs exploded with laughter. "Okay! Okay, okay, I give!"

The teenage boy, who felt himself get oddly excited as the pretty girl wriggled and struggled underneath him, grinned wickedly. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

"I _give_! I give, I give, I give, please! Ahh-hahaha!" Dawn cried out in a fit of laughter, tapping the mattress hard with her hands in her pleas for release.

Satisfied, Connor ceased his tickling assault, unable to stop smiling as he watched Dawn giggle beneath him, her eyes closed and her chest heaving up and down in quick breaths. But then an electric-like charge suddenly coursed through him at the feel of her slender frame against his, every part of him immediately standing at attention.

"No…fair…really…ticklish," Dawn panted.

The naughty gleam in Connor's cobalt-blue eyes resurfaced as he eyed his quivering, beautiful prey, grabbing hold of her wrists. "Bad choice of words, Dawn. Especially given your position."

Realizing his intent, Dawn began to squirm again, laughing as she tried to wrestle her way out from under him. "Oh, no! Don't you..."

Dawn broke off as she caught sight of Connor's eyes, blue and piercing and lit with mirth, boring into her own sky-blue irises, suddenly aware of their closeness and her nose filling with that cinnamon-dirt-boy smell that she had come to find irresistible as of late. "…dare…"

Both teens stared deeply into each other's eyes as they lay on the bed, their bodies pressed closely against one another, lost in a haze of hormones and teenage lust…

It was there that Connor made the first move, capturing her lips with a full, heated kiss. It had its desired effect as Dawn eagerly returned it with a searing lip lock of her own, opening her mouth wider as his tongue slowly, almost tenderly slipped into her and met her own.

The gentle moan of pleasure that came from Dawn was enough to drive Connor nearly mad with desire as his hands roamed all over his girlfriend, feeling every soft and firm curve, her overpoweringly feminine scent pushing him even further over the edge as his hands began to reach under her shirt…

"Wait," Dawn rasped out, grabbing hold of his hands. "Connor…we've gotta slow it down a little."

With a look of surprise, and one of hurt, Connor pulled back. "But…but I thought we…"

Remembering the last time he'd looked at her with those wounded puppy-dog eyes and how that had ended up with her fending off that creepy insect demon in the sewers, Dawn made sure to grab his hand tightly…and to hold his gaze on her even tighter. "Connor, it's not you! Believe me. It's just…well, your sniffy sense was right. I'm a…I mean, I've never…"

She sighed, flushing red in embarrassment. "I've never actually...done anything like this before."

Realization appeared on Connor's face as her words hit home. "Oh…you mean the virgin thing."

Blushing ever redder than before, Dawn frowned. "Hey! Tact, much?"

"Sorry," Connor scratched his head ruefully. Suddenly, his smile became more tender as he brushed her hair back from her face. "Well, i-it's okay. I mean, I'm not exactly an expert myself, but I can guide you through the rough spots. We'll take it slow -"

"No, Connor," Dawn gently lowered his hands, her voice soft and her eyes revealing a sort of frightened vulnerability. "You don't get it. God, you look so handsome right now, and I'm sure I'll regret saying this later, but I'm…I'm not ready for this yet. I'm only sixteen. And I…this is…it's just more than what I'm ready for right now."

She sighed, morosely. "I'm sorry. Just…please don't be angry again, okay? I know you're probably really pissed at me right n-_mmmngh_!"

The kiss Connor planted on her lips caught her off-guard before Dawn could figure out what was going on. When she pulled back, she saw how her boyfriend's expression was, miraculously, the opposite of angry. There was even a little seedling of a smile on his lips.

"I'm not mad," Connor smiled gently. "I think I get it. You're scared. It's like…a big step, I guess. But I'm thinking that maybe if I wait around long enough, play my cards right...then maybe one day, you won't be so scared anymore. And then, who knows?"

If Dawn were a cartoon character, this would have been the part where hearts flew around her head and the screen behind her turned pink. For it was at that moment that Dawn knew...she was completely and totally in love with Angel's son. Smiling in relief, the young woman snuggled in close to her boyfriend, sinking further into his embrace as his arms wrapped around her midriff.

"Best boyfriend ever," Dawn grinned happily as she closed her eyes and savored the contact.

With a smile that had become more frequent to him in the last few days than it had in his entire life, Connor leaned his head against hers. "Well, you're not too bad of a girlfriend yourself," he grinned, before frowning. "Besides, it would have been a little weird getting…intimate…here. I mean, considering what happened here. Or at least, what I _think_ happened here."

Off Dawn's puzzled expression, Connor elaborated, "I'm not entirely sure, but from what I can smell, I think this is most likely the place where I was…conceived." He finished that statement with a disturbed look on is face.

Dawn gaped. "Are you serious?"

Connor shuddered. "Believe me, I wish I wasn't."

At that, Dawn giggled. "Wow…that _is _weird!"

His fingers reached up and idly played with a strand of her hair. "'Freak' weird or 'Oreo cookie' weird?"

Off his smile, Dawn grinned as she reached up and cupped his chin. "Cookies. The second one. Now, stop talking and give me some sugar."

Giggling, the two lovebirds began kissing again…until the door opened, and Darla, Molly, Vi, Amanda, Anna and even Matthew began making their way in.

"Hey, you guys! We were just - whoa!" Vi's bubbly greeting was cut short as she spotted the pair kissing.

Abruptly, the young couple broke apart and jumped off of the bed. "Damn it, Vi, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Dawn huffed in annoyance, her cheeks burning crimson.

"Sure. Have _you _ever heard of locking the door?" Vi retorted with a sly grin, before she placed her hand on her head in overdramatic flourish. "Or were you guys too lost in each other's eyes?"

Amanda, eager to play along, decided to jump in, playing the part of Connor. "Oh, Dawn, I just get so lost in your beautiful blue eyes - that I almost forgot to do that sexy broody teenage hero thing I do!"

Vi, doing her best Dawn impersonation, pretended to swoon in Amanda's arms. "Oh, Connor, my darling, you're the only one who understands how hard it is being the Slayer's sister. Hold me in your strong, masculine arms - you cute, pouty-lipped Superboy!"

As Anna and Matthew burst out laughing, Molly only rolled her eyes, despite a small smile at her friends' antics. "I swear; the two of you have the combined maturity of a croissant."

As Connor flushed red, Dawn scowled playfully. "I'm spitting in both your plates during breakfast tomorrow! Just so you know."

Darla frowned. "Dawn, when I told you two to get a room next time? This wasn't exactly what or where I had in mind."

Dawn swallowed. "Oh! Uh, right…I'm sorry, Darla."

The former vampiress waived off her apology. "No apology needed. But I trust that you know how to act…responsibly."

The undertone of what she meant was not lost on Dawn, who nervously swallowed and nodded, thinking back to how close Connor and she had come to losing control a few minutes ago.

"Mom! Geez, humiliation much?" a flame-cheeked Connor bit out tersely, having picked up that new slang from hanging around Dawn and the girls yesterday.

Deciding that she had made her point, Darla's gaze softened, returning to the task at hand as she looked at Dawn. "So. How are you feeling? Is there any change?"

Dawn blinked, before she understood that Darla was referring to her newly-awakened Key powers. "Oh, uh…well, so far, it's pretty safe to check off super-strength on the list of 'Dawn's New Makeover.'"

"We heard about that," Vi jumped in. "Are you alright, Dawn?"

"What kind of powers do you have?" Molly asked.

"Did it hurt?" Amanda inquired.

Dawn scratched her head. "Um, well, in order: yes, I'm fine, still figuring that out, and no, but it kinda tingled."

"Wait, so does _everyone_ here have super-powers?" a confused Anna asked. This was getting way too

hard for her to understand.

"Seems that way," Connor shrugged.

"We don't," Vi said, indicating Molly, Amanda, Matthew and herself.

"Then again, I could be wrong," Connor admitted sheepishly.

Dawn eyed Anna in curiosity. "By the way; what are you still doing here, Anna? Not that I don't like you, but I kinda figured you'd have gone home by now."

Anna shrugged. "I tried calling home a few times, but there's no answer. Then I remembered…my parents were scheduled to leave town today. Business trip thing. And after everything that's happened," she looked down slightly. "I guess I just didn't want to be home alone right now."

Connor looked away in shame, knowing that was mostly his fault. Dawn, sensing his discomfort, squeezed his hand in reassurance, before she returned her gaze to Anna. "I get that. Don't worry, I figure you can stay as long as you like; I'm sure Angel won't mind. And heck, the way Buffy keeps forgetting who's who among the Potentials? We could tell her you're one of the future Chosen crowd, and she'd never even question it!"

Anna smiled in relief. "Thanks, Dawn. That means a lot."

Matthew took a step forward, eying Dawn with childlike curiosity. "So, it's really true, Dawn? You have super powers now?"

Dawn shrugged, with a smile at the little boy. "Watch this."

With that, she walked over to the nearby desk, and effortlessly heaved it up over her head in a one-handed balancing act, drawing looks of awe and surprise from her audience.

Without so much as a pulled muscle, she set it back down onto the ground. Scanning the room for something, Dawn's eyes rested on a lamp.

Connor watched his girlfriend closely, unsure as to what she was planning. "Dawn? What are you -?"

"Ssh! Not now, Connor, I'm trying to concentrate," Dawn waved him off. She knew that there had to be more to her than just strength now. But she hadn't yet discovered anything else yet.

Except…except that green light show that had erupted from her eyes and mouth, when Insect-thing had had Connor at its mercy.

_But how did that work?_ She was only able to access the deadly beam after she'd thought that Connor would die. The fear, the despair that it created within her. The idea that another person close to her world would be lost, like Buffy and Tara and her mother…because she wasn't strong enough. Because she couldn't help them, no matter how badly she wanted to.

Dawn's eyes began to flicker in that deadly jade hue.

Because she was too weak and frail and useless to count for anything else. Because she was never strong enough, like Buffy or Angel or Spike. Because _she_ was never enough. But she had to be. She needed to be. Because if she couldn't do this, with everything on the line, then Buffy, Angel, Spike, Connor, everyone…she would lose them all. And it would be all her fault. Because she wasn't strong enough to save them. But she had to. She just had to!

Dawn gasped as the power suddenly flooded through her, her eyes and mouth aflame in glowing green energy as that deadly light burst forth from her head once more, striking the vase. Enveloped in the energy, the lamp's molecules shifted between thousands of dimensions at once - before it suddenly exploded, sending shards of ceramic pottery flying across the room like shrapnel.

The others only had a moment to duck as they dodged the sharp fragments, barely avoiding serious injury.

Off the stunned faces of everyone in the entire room, Dawn offered a sheepish smile. "So, uh…anyone wanna arm-wrestle?"

At that point, nearly everyone gave the Key a nervous smile before they started backing away slowly.

Matthew, however, eyed Dawn enviously. "That was so _cool_!"

Pleased by his compliment, Dawn smiled. "Thanks, Matt." Smirking, she turned to Connor. "I even beat Superboy here in an arm-wrestling contest, y'know."

"No way!" a stunned Matthew exclaimed.

Connor rolled his eyes. "Might want to tell him that was only because you cheated, Dawn?"

"Eh, you say potato, I say po-tah-toe," Dawn smiled impishly. "And you say cheated, I say used my feminine wiles. Same diff."

"Can you guys do it again? It would be wicked cool to see," Matthew urged them eagerly.

Connor smiled at the boy. He was so young, and yet he had still managed to retain a part of his innocence even in the wake of his parents' violent deaths. It made Connor feel somewhat protective, the way a big brother would look at his little brother.

"Maybe another time, kiddo," Connor teased as he ruffled the boy's red hair playfully. "You can referee to make sure Ms. Feminine Wiles over here actually plays by the rules."

Dawn playfully stuck her tongue out at Connor, which drew rueful laughter from her boyfriend.

Darla shook her head, becoming more concerned that Dawn was letting her power go to her head. "Dawn, I thought we talked about this. Just because you have the power now doesn't mean you can use it to show off for your friends. You're part of something much larger now."

Dawn wearily sighed. "Oh, come on, Darla, you're not gonna go all Uncle Ben on me, are you?"

The blonde woman raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Uncle what?"

"Spider-Man reference. '_With great power comes great responsibility_,' and all that," Dawn explained. "They asked, I showed. It's no big deal."

"Not until someone gets hurt, anyway," Darla reminded her, a hint of sternness in her voice as she gestured around the room at the lamp fragments. "Gifts like yours are a huge responsibility, and until you can control them, you'd be better off reducing the showboating and practicing your control with myself, Spike and Faith, just as we agreed on earlier today."

"Alright, I get it," Dawn sighed. "I'll wait until we start training, then. Geez, I was just trying to have a little fun."

"I know you think that I'm being a wet blanket about this, Dawn, but I'm trying to teach you something," Darla patiently explained. "You're not like other people now. Things have changed. And depending on how you handle these new powers, that could mean the difference between whether you hurt people or protect them. And believe me, the last thing you want on your conscience is the burden of knowing that someone got hurt or worse because of you."

The beautiful blonde woman looked down for a moment, images of her bloody past flashing in her mind's eye. "When that happens…you'll never be able to take that back."

A heavy sigh escaped Dawn's lips. "You're right, I know. Okay, okay, I'll be more careful. I guess the last thing we need around here, given what's happening, are any more nasty surprises."

As if on cue, a loud shattering sound came from downstairs, startling everyone.

"What the heck was that?" Vi asked in confusion.

Suddenly, both Darla's and Connor's noses flared with new scents. Angel's familiar scent of leather, cologne and hair gel indicated his return, and the scents of vanilla and lavender shampoo meant that Buffy and Cordelia had returned, as well.

But there was also another scent, a fourth, that troubled Darla deeply. It was the smell of Dior and expensive silk. A smell that belonged to an enemy from her past. An enemy that was supposed to be dead and cremated, as of several weeks ago. _No, it's not…possible…_

"It can't be," Connor muttered in surprise, realizing the familiarity of that smell.

"Connor?" Dawn asked, growing worried. "What is it?"

At that, Darla took command. "Connor, Dawn, come with me. The rest of you head back to your rooms, and don't come out until one of us comes to get you."

"Darla, what's going on?" Dawn asked as the three of them began heading for the lobby, leaving the normals behind to obey orders.

The blonde woman's troubled expression did not escape Dawn's notice. "I think I know, Dawn…I just hope I'm wrong."

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Lobby**

**A few minutes earlier**

* * *

"Lilah," Angel said, his eyes narrowed in steely iciness, his voice a low, cold hiss laced with fury and disdain.

"Angel," Lilah smugly grinned as she sauntered forward into the hotel lobby amidst the shocked heroes.

Her every step was filled with a kind of regal haughtiness, Buffy could easily see that. Like the woman thought the very ground she walked on wasn't good enough for her. And while her Slayer-sense wasn't going ballistic, letting her know that this person was neither vampire nor demon, there was something about this brunette during the thirty seconds she'd been here so far that made Buffy want to throttle that arrogant poise right out of her expensive designer shoes.

"What's the matter, ace?" Lilah purred, clearly enjoying every moment of this, even as she faced Angel's stony glare and several stunned faces. "Didn't think you were the only one who ever got to come back from Hell around here, did ya?"

At that Lilah stopped, clearing her throat loudly. "Speaking of which, could I possibly get some ice water?"

"And you are…?" Buffy asked, her eyebrow raised.

The petite blonde Slayer having caught her attention, Lilah's eyes twinkled in fascination. "Well, well…so _this_ is the infamous Buffy Summers. Angel's 'One-Twue-Wuv.' Your reputation precedes you, as it should. I believe my company's files refer to you as 'The Deathless Slayer'…you know, on count of how you keep kicking the bucket and popping back up again like a masochistic bowling pin?"

Buffy's patience with this woman was beginning to fade fast, especially as the deceased lawyer's eyes began appraising her, none-too-disguised disdain etched in them.

"Though I've gotta say…I thought you'd be taller," Lilah smirked, regarding the Slayer's tattered appearance. "And the whole 'Sigourney Weaver-Circa-Aliens Part 1' look _definitely _isn't working for you, sweetheart."

Buffy stiffened as she offered Lilah a terse look. "I don't know you, lady, and yet already, I'm pretty sure…I don't like you. Which is bad for you, because things I don't like? They generally tend to get pummeled into grease stains."

"If only it was that simple right now," Angel tersely told Buffy as he walked towards her side, eying Lilah with a cold stare. "This is Lilah Morgan. A lawyer at Wolfram & Hart…well, she _was_, up until she bled to death in our hallway a few weeks ago."

Neither one noticed how a wide-eyed Cordelia tensed up at the mention of Lilah's death…or how Wesley's eyes looked down and away for a moment.

Buffy's eyebrows raised as she suddenly recalled that name, mentioned to her by Angel when he'd recounted yesterday all of Angel Investigations' exploits and trials over the last few years. "Wait a minute…Lilah Morgan? As in 'evil lawyer' Lilah? Wesley's Lilah?" _**Dead**__ Lilah?_

As Angel nodded, Lilah put her hands to her chest in mock flattery. "Why, Angel! Can't stop talking about little ol' me, huh? Well, can't say I blame you. I've always made a lasting impression on people. Or, in your case, _un_-people."

Buffy suddenly scowled, thinking that she saw right through the obvious ruse. "Okay, now I get it. Nice try, Casper, but this act is getting _really_ old," she said bitingly.

"Meaning what?" Lilah asked nonchalantly.

"Meaning that I've had _enough_ of your little pop-in, pop-out games," Buffy angrily snapped, looking to the others. "What, don't you guys get it? It's obviously the First. _Again_. How else would a dead woman that's not a vampire be here?"

Angel, however, knowingly shook his head. "It's not the First."

Buffy gaped at him. "Of course it is! Look, I know it can be very convincing, but -"

"Tell me something, Hot Stuff," Lilah's smug voice drew Buffy's attention as the newcomer stepped near an old vase near one of the hotel's pillars. "If I was the First Evil, then how could I do…this?"

With that, Lilah gently pushed the vase off its supporting column, sending it crashing to the floor in a loud, shattering explosion of noise.

Buffy was effectively thrown for a loop. "Okay, fine. That pretty much kicks my theory out the window," the Slayer shrugged, knowing that if this was the First, it would not have been able to make physical contact with anything that way.

But all this still made no sense to Buffy. From what she heard, this Lilah Morgan's death was as non-mystical as you could get, and she knew the rules; no mystical death, no resurrection. Yet, here she was; all walking and talking and annoying. _How? And why?_

"What are you doing here, Lilah?" Angel demanded, his tone calm, yet edged with a deadly menace.

"She's _not_ here," Wesley said, his voice drawing all eyes on him. "It's not her."

With a confused stare, he quietly muttered. "It can't be..."

_It couldn't be._ Every rational thought within the brilliant mind of Wesley Wyndham-Pryce told him that Lilah was dead. He knew that; her throat had been torn open by the Beastmaster's bone knife, not long before the team had found her corpse being drained by Angelus; her lovely body already growing stiff in the early stages of rigor mortis, her slender throat caked with leaking blood, those stunning, crafty green eyes - eyes that could also look softer and more expressive than many would have ever realized, except him - forever wide and blank in a lifeless stare.

Lilah's heartbeat and breathing had ceased, he had checked several times, and the massive loss of blood she'd sustained from both vampire and Beastmaster made resuscitation impossible. And, of course, there was the final coup de grace…when he'd beheaded her lifeless body, at the time thinking that she might have been Sired by Angelus.

Wesley desperately held on to that logic, clinging to it with every grasp of his being, as right now, it was all that was keeping him from completely losing his mind.

And yet, throwing all logic and rational thought into the trash compactor, there Lilah stood. Right there in the lobby of his former friends' hotel, looking every bit as lovely and conceited as she ever did.

"There's a signed dollar in your wallet that says different," the dead woman simply replied, yet with an atypical softness in her tone as she addressed her ex-lover.

Yet those soft, raspy words - spoken with a sense of tenderness - felt to Wesley as if that damned dagger had just been plunged into his own heart, each syllable adding another cruel twist to a wound that was still open and raw.

Wes felt a tidal wave of illness sweep over him as he turned away, muttering desperately to himself, "It's a lie."

"-lah. It's a 'Lilah,'" Lilah quipped in self-satisfaction at her cleverness. Yet her smirk faded as she saw how crestfallen Wesley looked. Deciding that she could not convince the ex-Watcher to accept the truth, she turned and looked at the only one who could do that - Angel. "You're the one with the preternatural senses. _You_ tell him."

With a heavy sigh, Angel turned sympathetic eyes towards Wesley, knowing full well how this unexpected visit must have shaken his old friend right down to the core. _This is all we needed right now, I swear..._

"It's true, Wes. It's her," Angel said at last, knowing full well that Lilah was really here - and _how_ she was here. He just didn't have a clue as to the 'why' yet. "I can tell by the scent - you can't fool a vampire that way, with a ringer of some sort."

At that moment, Gunn and Fred came bolting down the stairs, followed by Darla, Connor and Dawn.

"We heard the crash," Gunn called out hurriedly, before he caught sight of their unannounced visitor. "What's the emergen-whoa!"

"Omigod," a stunned Fred quietly muttered as she caught sight of Lilah's smirking form.

"No way," Connor breathed, stunned. Dawn only stared in confusion, having no clue why everyone was so surprised over some lady having arrived and standing in the hotel's lobby.

Darla's face was filled with visible surprise, and a slight hint of apprehension. "Lilah," she said, almost questioningly.

Catching sight of Darla, the dead lawyer's smile grew wider. "Well, well, well! Hello, Darla. I guess it's true what they say - you really can't keep a good woman down. No matter how many times she gets killed around here."

Darla scowled, regarding the former lawyer coldly. "What the hell are you doing here? And, more importantly, why aren't you dead?"

Lilah scoffed. "Hello, pot? This is kettle. You're black." She smirked at the blonde woman as she and the others slowly made their way down the stairs into the lobby. "What's the matter, Darla? Afraid that I'm stealing your thunder as the Comeback Queen from the Dead?"

"Um, actually? I think that's sorta my title," Buffy chimed in.

Eying Wesley's tense, increasingly stiff and brooding figure, Darla fought down her sense of sympathy and an odd surge of jealousy and returned her focus on the dead woman. "Lilah, what are you _doing_ here?"

"I believe the appropriate term is...unfinished business," Lilah knowingly replied, as cocky as ever.

At that, Lilah's gaze trailed over to Lindsey, who was staring at his former colleague with interested eyes. The look of recognition on the dead woman's face was tempered by amusement, and a slight hostility born of old rivalry.

"Speaking of which," she purred. "Look who came crawling back to LA. What happened, Lindsey? Got bored pushing candy at your little shack in Podunk or wherever the hell you were, so you showed up to get a piece of the action? Or were you maybe hoping the Senior Partners would take you back into the fold, if you just begged them hard enough?"

Lindsey offered his ex-rival a cocky smirk, not in the least surprised as to how she could be here after hearing the tale of her demise. "Lilah. Wish I could say it was good to see ya, but then you could always smell B.S. from a mile away. And as I recall, begging was always more _your_ field of expertise. It's probably why the Senior Partners picked me over you to run Special Projects, right before I quit the firm. Guess they needed someone with balls."

Lilah sneered, "Oh, believe me, bucko, I've got bigger balls than you could ever dream of."

The Midwest native smiled cheekily, and then shook his head. "Nah. Way too easy."

With a disgusted shake of her head, Lilah turned away from him - _Cocky bastard, if only I had the ability to vaporize him_ - only to catch sight of a scowling Kate.

"Detective Lockley," the female lawyer greeted and smiled her almost predatorily. "Or is it _former_ detective these days? How's life playing den mother for a bunch of castaway kids treating you? I bet your dear old dad would be so proud."

Kate's blue eyes went diamond-hard as she eyed Lilah with pure contempt. "Go to hell, bitch."

Lilah shrugged, giving her an infuriating smile. "I have. It's overrated."

"Wait, I don't understand…how is she back? I mean, the woman was dead," a confused Fred wondered, not in the least happy to see their old enemy back among them.

"She's still dead," Angel tersely responded, slowly circling Lilah with his ever-watchful eyes; to which, he gave her credit, she didn't even flinch at.

"Vampire?" a stone-faced Gunn asked, tensing for possible battle.

"Eww. Please," Lilah shuddered, as if the very thought repulsed her. "Angelus drank from me, true. But, like with most men, it was a one way street. I was dead already."

Turning to Wesley, she gave a small smirk. "Besides, my Wesley made sure I'd be spared... just in case."

At that, Lilah tugged at her scarf and pulled it down, revealing the red-ringed scar from her recent decapitation, which had been done by Wesley's own hands.

Darla watched as Wes looked like he was about to be sick. His piercing blue eyes fell to the floor, horrified by the sight. The blonde felt the urge to go towards him, to squeeze his hand in comfort, but restrained herself. It was not her place to do so.

Yet that knowledge did nothing to banish the urge to throttle Lilah, as the beautiful auburn-haired woman smiled at Wesley with something akin to tenderness. "It's okay, lover. I never felt a thing."

Wesley's eyes hardened as he met Lilah's again. "I'm sure that's true," he coolly replied.

The double meaning of those words was not lost on Lilah, who felt a stab of hurt inside her as she slowly pulled back her scarf. _Guess absence really doesn't make the heart grow fonder, on occasion._

"Man, I don't get this. If she ain't alive and she ain't a vampire...then what in the hell _is_ she?" a puzzled and somewhat frustrated Gunn asked.

"I'm just a messenger. That's all. They'll be sending me straight back to hell once I'm finished here," Lilah shrugged in her detached manner.

"Who's _they_?" Buffy asked, suspiciously.

"Wolfram & Hart," Angel said, recalling his posthumous meeting with Holland Manners two years ago; as he'd attempted to head for the head office to destroy the Senior Partners, during their 75-year review of the LA branch of the firm. "The contract she signed with them…it extends beyond her death."

"Standard perpetuity clause, I'm afraid. Should always read the fine print," Lilah sighed in resignation.

"Standard what's-it?" a confused Dawn blurted out.

"Perpetuity. As in, eternity? Infinity? Time without end? Whatever you wanna call it, it's a contractual obligation trademarked by the shamans and mystics of Wolfram & Hart," Lindsey explained to them. "It's only given to high-ranking employees. Basically, once you sign a contract like that you get a salary almost beyond belief, plus earthly power and influence only below that of the Circle of the Black Thorn - but your soul is permanently bound in servitude to Wolfram & Hart. That way, the Senior Partners keep valuable assets under their thumb and at their disposal, at their discretion. Anytime they want. Forever."

Willow turned and looked at Oz as they took that in. "Wow. That…sounds like it sucks," the redhead muttered.

"Not very pleasant-sounding, no," Oz concurred simply.

Wesley had to take a moment to sit down, as he struggled to comprehend what he'd just heard. Lilah. His dead lover. Someone he had come to care for, no matter how much he didn't want to. Sentenced to be trapped in service to the Wolf, Ram & Hart. Forever.

The concept made Wes sicker and angrier than he could have ever thought possible.

Lilah merely shrugged. "Hey, I knew the risks when I signed on. Though I was hoping my trip to the Other Side would've come later rather than sooner."

At that, her green eyes trailed to Cordelia, who was still rooted in place, barely able to comprehend that _Lilah Morgan_ - who had died by her own hand - was standing right there, only a few feet from her.

"And I believe I have _you _to thank for that," Lilah dryly said. "Well, sort of anyway."

"Oh, God," Cordelia uttered, feeling a wave of nausea and shock flooding her system, all of her sins staring back at her, taunting her. "Lilah, I -"

"Tell me something, Cordelia. Have you ever heard of M theory?" the lawyer interrupted the former seer. "No? Then how about you, Mr. Harris? According to my information, you used to be a sci-fi geek - and proud of it."

"Lady, I was a _lot_ of things in high school. And I heard the term somewhere, but I don't recall where exactly right now," the still-bruised and battered Xander replied guardedly.

"Anyone else?" Lilah beamed. "How about you, Mr. Wells?"

"Uh, well," Andrew stammered, as people turned their attention to him. "The way I heard it on TV and the comics, M theory is short for the 'multiple worlds' theory, right? That our Earth is only one of many parallel universes, within a, uh, larger multiverse - containing infinite dimensions where anything which can happen, does?"

"Very _good_, Mr. Wells!" Lilah congratulated him cheerfully. "You know, I don't know why that Skip character insisted that you just sort of Forrest Gump'ed your way into all this. You totally contribute, in your own feeble manner!"

"Mind if I ask where the hell all this is goin', Dead Woman Walking?" Gunn demanded, wishing it was as simple as just using his axe on Lilah to get rid of her.

"Of course not," Lilah said, turning to face Cordelia. "You're special, you see. In all the multiverse, there's only one Cordelia Chase like you. And every time you look in the mirror, you're staring at her."

"I, I don't..." Cordelia stammered, even as Xander limped closer to her.

"Okay, let me try to dumb it down a bit for you," Lilah said generously. "Like Skip said a few years ago, you make decisions every day. Throughout your life, the choices you make define you. Plus there's always the, how shall I put this, _road not travelled_. Except in an alternate reality, the road _was _travelled. Every single choice you could ever make, it all happens to a different version of you in an alternate reality.

"I mean, remember how Skip showed you what your life could have been, roughly fourteen months ago?" Lilah went on. "Well, in one reality, Cordelia Chase _did_ become a TV star - even though she eventually committed suicide after the show was canned, and her career totally tanked. In another reality, she died after refusing to become half-demon during her birthday. In yet another, she went crazy trying to claw her eyes out after Angel failed to beat that clown Vocah, and that Cordelia ended up a drugged vegetable. There are also quite a number of realities where she was killed in Sunnydale - either becoming a vampire, or the Bride of Frankenstein, or eaten by that idiot Machida..."

"Like Gunn said, what's your point?" Angel demanded coldly, as he didn't like this little trip down Memory Lane one bit.

"Uh..." Xander said, amazingly he had somehow figured it out by now. Once a sci-fi geek, always a sci-fi geek. "Maybe we should just change the subject -"

"Figured it out, have you, Mr. Harris?" Lilah said approvingly. "Good for you! But just to make it clear to your ex-girlfriend - someone you never made it work with _any_ reality, by the way - there's only one Cordelia Chase that's alive and awake anymore, throughout the entire infinity of the multiverse. _Her. _She's either dead, in a coma or a vampire in every other dimension out there. In other words, she's become the ultimate fifth wheel in the story of life! I just thought she'd like to know that - given the role she played in my murder, a few weeks back."

"Lilah..." Cordelia meekly started to say.

"Is this the part where you say 'I'm sorry'?" Lilah replied mockingly. "Well, sweetie, there are some things that 'I'm sorry' just can't fix. Just a little free advice, you know?" She smirked. "I'm just saying…speaking as one murderer to another."

Those icy, cruel words - just like in her dream last night - finally pushed the already-frayed Cordelia to her breaking point, her stomach beginning to wretch and her guilt becoming overwhelming. At that moment, she bolted out the front door, needing to get away from here as quickly as she could.

"Cordy, wait!" Xander called out, taking a moment to shoot a poisonous look at Lilah before he limped after the distraught Seer.

Lilah was thoroughly pleased with herself. "Gee, wonder what crawled up her butt and d-_aack_!"

In a flash, her words were cut off as a livid Angel, in a blur of fury, pinned Lilah up against a nearby wall by the throat, his grip like steel as it clasped around her windpipe.

Buffy was startled, rarely ever having seen Angel this pissed. Although a part of her was mildly interested in seeing him rip this evil bitch's head off, for all the mind games just now.

"I'd say you've worn out your welcome; but then, that would imply that you were ever welcome here in the first place, Lilah," Angel snarled quietly, his voice dripping with menace.

"Hey…watch the head…it…comes off…kinda easy," Lilah rasped in his grip.

"Well, if you want to keep it where it is? I suggest you get to the point, and then get your dead ass out of my house," the ensouled vampire coldly replied.

"Love to," she gasped. "If you…stop…squeezing…windpipe…"

"Angel," Wesley called out, somewhat eager to get this reunion over with. "Lilah can't talk if you don't let go. Let's hear her out, before the Senior Partners lose all patience with her and she gets sent back to hell."

Despite the urge to take Lilah's newly reattached head and play a round of dodgeball with it, Angel reluctantly released his grip on the dead woman's throat. He knew that Wesley was right; if Lilah was here, it was for a reason. And now, more than ever, they needed answers.

"One minute," Angel tersely bit out. "That's all you have to get to the point. No more mind games, no more snarks, and no more catty observations. Tell us what you know, and then get gone. That's the deal."

"And I suggest you don't waste time, lady," Buffy replied, her eyes narrowed as she backed Angel up. "We're kinda on a schedule here."

Tenderly rubbing her neck, Lilah cleared her throat. "Right. Forgot you superhero types aren't much for the small talk."

After a beat, Lilah sighed. "In a nutshell…it wasn't originally supposed to happen this way."

"_What_ way?" Angel spat out.

"All this," Lilah gestured in general around her. "Everything that's happened in this branch of the multiverse, since your brat over there made his choice regarding that idiot virgin sacrifice girl. The Sunnydale people showing up here…that Power's premature birth…all of the First's surgical strikes against its enemies…all of it unexpected, but still leading up to the First Evil's big endgame."

"Yeah, yeah," Buffy rolled her eyes. "The First is after Jasmine's body to become corporeal, and then it's gonna lead its Army of Darkness or whatever in a whole global Armageddon thing."

"We already know all this, Lilah," Angel shrugged dismissively, thinking he was about to hear nothing new.

Which was why Lilah's sardonic laugh surprised him. "Are you kidding me, pal? You really think the Senior Partners would have sent _me_ here for something that, well, _bush league_?"

Buffy felt a sense of dread come over her as she heard those words. "Bush league?"

Giles's face was troubled as he walked in closer. "What are you saying, Ms. Morgan?"

"I'm saying that, like always, you people are missing the bigger, nastier picture," Lilah sighed in dramatic fashion. "You really think the First would have spent all that time and resources just to get some fleshy threads and play a live action version of 'Risk?'"

"Ooh! I love that game," Andrew piped up, only to be silenced when Anya's admonishing hand smacked him upside his head. She did it with a bit too much strength, too; because the ex-demon could not help wondering whether or not there was an alternate reality out there where Xander had made the _right_ choice last year, and where she was Mrs. Anya Harris right now.

Ignoring them both, Lilah continued, "You're thinking too small, people. Global level's big, but it's still small potatoes compared to the real plan."

"And that would be _what_?" Buffy asked, impatiently. "Get to the point, okay? I've never had much of an attention span; and quite frankly, lady, you're starting to bore me."

"Spit it out, Lilah," Angel demanded, tiring of the lawyer's games.

"In short…the First is going to erase all of existence," Lilah replied. "Every galaxy, every star, every planet, every demon dimension, every alternate reality. Every living species, heck, every single-celled amoeba…all gone in a flash. And it's all going to happen about three weeks from now."

There was no need for words among the now-stunned and the horrified crowd.

That smug grin once again appeared on Lilah's pretty face. "Oh, wait…is my one-minute time limit up already? Or do you want me to keep going?"

* * *

**TBC**...

* * *

**Next: Jasmine falls into the clutches of the First...what horror is the Origin of All Evil planning?**

**And to save the universe, will Angel and Buffy make a deal with a deadly foe?**

* * *

Well, that's all for now. More to come later; and remember: like me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter...oh wait, I don't have those yet (shrugs) ...and take care, Spike Your Hair!

-Later!

Jean-theGuardian


	27. Part 25 Nightmares Made Flesh

IT'S CLOBBERING TIME! Er…STORY TIME! Ah, whatever, I'm getting in the mood for the upcoming Avengers movie. Anyway, Happy March, people! Special thanks to my Brother from Down Under, Starway Man, for his amazing efforts, and please check out his fics on F F dot net. He rocks! (Really, he does!)

And shout outs to everyone who reviewed, including Lily Emerald, Spyagent001, Nilya2397, teamtiva, Geoff, BloodyTink, Angellufy, Alkeni, philly cheese dude, ashes at midnight, David Fishwick, ShayleeAlf, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, Dark Vizard447, and whoever left those two anonymous reviews. You guys rock!

Hard to believe this fic's approaching it's 9 year anniversary in April. I really meant to write it much faster, but, well…see previous chapters for explanation. (shrug) But as I promised earlier, this fic will be finished, and we're past the halfway mark. The next few chapters should be quite the ride, but don't get too comfortable, because just when you think you've figured out all the answers…I might just change the questions on you!

The following lyrics within the next chapter are brought to you by Green Day and Mariah Carey, and are not the intellectual property of me.

Now sit back, grab a soda, tell your friends, and gather round, because the next chapter of Bring Me To Life begins right about…now!

* * *

**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 25 – Nightmares Made Flesh**

* * *

**Southern California – Ten Miles Beyond The Los Angeles City Limits**

**Now**

* * *

Jasmine sprinted through the shrubs and loose branches of the forest, panting in fear as she continued heading for higher ground amidst the pouring rain.

As she ran, the memories of what she (and the so-called Beastmaster) had done kept passing through her mind. Like the Rain of Fire, and all the people who had died - been sacrificed - that night, so that the Beast could later clear the city of Wolfram & Hart's influence long enough for her to 'save' the world.

_Hear the sound of the falling rain_

_Coming down like an Armageddon flame (Hey!)_

_The shame_

_The ones who died without a name_

Jasmine could easily remember her false minion directing the Beast to do what it had done, whilst they had been within Cordelia's body. All the chaos and destruction that the huge rocky demon had created, before it had encountered Faith and Angelus, long after the local branch of Wolfram & Hart had been...well, taken care of.

_Hear the dogs howling out of key_

_To a hymn called "Faith and Misery" (Hey!)_

_And bleed, the company lost the war today_

But now the Beast had a new master—her bastard offspring from so long ago. And as her running footsteps echoed within the forest Jasmine acknowledged to herself that she honestly hadn't expected that, hadn't expected the First to have resurrected the damn thing somehow and for the Beast to switch its allegiance this way. Then again, the First had much to offer the rocky menace, not the least of which was revenge on Angel...

_Hear the drum pounding out of time_

_Another protester has crossed the line (Hey!)_

_To find, the money's on the other side_

Truth be told, Jasmine didn't really know where she was headed. She only knew that she had to put distance between herself and the First's new minions. She needed to find a place to hide, at least until this was over.

The moment that she'd heard that horrible stone creature refer to her as a 'vessel,' it had become all too clear to Jasmine what the First had in mind for her. She had cursed herself for her stupidity, her failure to pay attention to the timing of events; she, of all creatures, should have realized that the Awakening was happening at practically the same time as her descent from the Higher Realms.

And what that meant not only for Earth, but for all of Creation.

Now, she had no more time. No defenses, no alternatives. There was only one option: to run. Run and hide until the time for the great cosmic alignment had passed, until all of existence could be safe.

Which was still three weeks away. She had to run and keep running until…

_THWIP! THWIP!_

Without warning, Jasmine cried out as two large vines shot out and tripped her up, ensnaring her legs as she plummeted to the wet and muddy ground. Before she knew it, even more vines, and the branches of several bending oak trees began wrapping around her, cocooning around her torso as the rain continued to pelt down from the dark skies above.

After a few moments of thrashing, Jasmine managed to use her incredible strength to power out of the vice-like hold the vines had on her, ripping them off of her body. And yet, even more came, stronger and faster and by the bunches.

"_Sinev eransne eht lessev_!" spoke the voice of a human female from behind a row of trees…a voice that belonged to Amy Madison.

Her eyes were black as the darkest shadows, a look of pure focus on her face as the witch extended her arms, willing to life the vines and plant life binding Jasmine. Amy then yelled, "Hurry up with the mojo, you idiots! I can't keep this up for much longer, you know!"

From the darkness of the woods, came silent chants…incantations from dozens of emerging Bringers, each and every one of them ignoring the pounding rain and holding crystallized orbs that were glowing an ominous red color.

To those that worshipped the dark arts, they were easily recognizable as Chaos Stones; ancient devices that could siphon the very life force from a victim, draining their strength and vitality. Of course, given Jasmine's power, they'd had to be tampered with somewhat in order to produce the maximum effect…something Ethan Rayne had been very instrumental in achieving.

Jasmine cried out in pain as she felt much of her strength vanishing; she felt herself growing weaker with each passing second as the vines continued to hold her fast. From behind her, the Beast finally caught up with its quarry, grinning smugly as it shoved Jasmine down to her knees by the hair, the brute force of the creature's move making her wince in agony.

"Tell me something. Did you really think all this was going to end any other way?" came a taunting voice out of nowhere.

And then, out of thin air, slowly materializing into being…appeared the First Evil, using the physical image of Buffy Summers. A cruel, twisted smile on what was otherwise a beautiful face, unaffected by all the rain coming down from the heavens above.

Jasmine glared helplessly into the First Evil's face. "Damn you," she spat at her nemesis. "_Damn you to Hell where you belong_!"

The First/Buffy mockingly put a hand over her heart. "Aww. Mommy, why are you saying such mean things to me? Don't you love me anymore?"

"Don't call me that," Jasmine growled, still struggling in the grip of the vines and the Beast even though her powers were fading fast.

The First's laugh was like a cruel slap in Jasmine's face. "Why not? It's what you are, isn't it? After all, if it wasn't for you, I would never have existed. And let's face it, aren't I much cooler than a bunch of amoebas and retarded insect-demon thingies that you went and played mad scientist with?"

Buffy/the First twirled around in a showboating fashion, much like a model on the catwalk in Paris. "You were the one who wanted to shake things up, experiment with the nature of the world. Remember? Well, get a load of me. I'm your greatest creation! Your masterpiece. Your most significant contribution to life as we know it."

"You are **_garbage_**!" Jasmine shouted in fury, even as the Beast pulled her hair painfully for that insult. "Nothing but the first mistake I ever made, billions of years ago. An abomination that's brought about nothing but misery, despair and death!"

The First just smirked. "So, I'm guessing that the Mother's Day brunch I'd had planned for us is, like, totally off the table now?"

The original Evil kept smirking as it added, "Oh, please, don't be such a sore loser! I mean, so I played you for a sucker all along, I made you look like a complete joke to everybody. Just consider all this a monument to your inability to get rid of me, like you were planning to. Sweet hallelujah, but can I help it if I'm so much better at the whole deity thing than you are?"

_Can I get another amen? (Amen!)_

_There's a flag wrapped around a score of men (Hey!)_

_A gag, a plastic bag on a monument_

Jasmine knew that there was no hope for her any longer. She was now too weak to fight back, and since none of the white hats knew where she was, it was impossible for the cavalry to swoop in and save her at the last moment. Once her strength was gone completely, the First would invade and kill her - vaporize her consciousness - before taking over her body.

The fallen Power could only hope that what she'd given to Angel and Buffy would be enough, those three golden rings that contained a portion of her essence. It had to be enough, unfortunately.

"I know what you're up to," Jasmine smiled bitterly. "And I'll tell you this—you'll fail. I don't know how, exactly, but you _will_ be stopped from destroying everything. My brothers and sisters will see to it that someone down here will stop you."

"And I suppose it's the great Angel or the almighty Buffy who are going to stop me?" the First laughed dismissively, suddenly morphing into the image of Joyce Summers. "They're just puppets. They always have been. And not very bright ones, at that. I mean, if they had just killed that Cordelia girl when they'd had the chance, we wouldn't even be here right now! But, like all heroes, their bleeding hearts got the better of them...that girl, she's _such _a disappointment as a daughter..." the First suddenly pretended to be Joyce for some reason Jasmine could not understand, until she realized she was being personally mocked by the First.

The First abruptly morphed into Angelus. "Well, enough chit-chat—in a few moments, I'll be one step closer to the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow. Or should I say…the end of the world as you know it."

Stepping closer to the bound Jasmine, Angelus/the First grinned. "Ironic, isn't it? I was born from out of your body, and now, I'm going back inside to where it all began. It's sort of like...coming home. With a big 'circle of life' theme, minus the stupid cartoon lions and talking pigs."

Despite her dread, Jasmine was able to muster out a defiant, "Go to Hell."

Angelus/the First flashed her an evil smile in response, its eyes glowing crimson red. "You first…mommy dearest."

With that, the First abruptly morphed into its true, deformed, monstrous shape. The demonic, red-eyed, intangible _thing_ that Buffy had seen five years ago, when she had kicked the asses of those Bringers who had come to Sunnydale to get Angel to commit suicide. The _thing_ that Caleb saw just before the First merged with him, whenever it decided to share with the tainted former priest part of its strength.

It was time. The First Evil morphed into a ball of white light that blasted its way through her chest, as Jasmine screamed in pure, undiluted agony.

The final remnants of her strength beginning to wither and die, Jasmine's last thoughts were only of the last hope that all the worlds everywhere had now: a dark-haired undead Champion, and a tiny, blonde Slayer. _Angel, Buffy…it's all up to you and yours now…I'm…sorr…_

The body of Jasmine slumped to the ground, the vines and tree branches falling away as if by their own accord and the Beast letting go of the woman's hair.

As the First's minions gathered around in the stormy rain, Amy looked at the fallen body warily. "Oh, crap…tell me we didn't overdo it—?"

Suddenly, the fallen Power's mocha-skinned body sat up, wide awake once more, startling Amy.

The Beast suddenly dropped to one knee, as the rest of the Bringers followed suit. "Master," the rocky creature uttered in sheer reverence, bowing its head as the raindrops bounced off its rocky cranium.

As the ex-goddess made it up to her feet, a confused Amy felt the need to say, "Uh, okay…I'm assuming everything's all gone to plan, then. So, how do you…y'know…feel?"

Slowly, 'Jasmine' turned her head towards Amy…revealing a pair of ominously glowing red eyes. Not the eyes of a former force of good, but the eyes of a dark and unholy power.

The eyes of Evil incarnate. The First Evil.

_Seig heil to the president gas man_

_Bombs away is your punishment_

_Pulverize the Eiffel Towers_

_Who criticize your government!_

The First/Jasmine grinned in a truly terrifying fashion. "Like Momma's got a brand new bag."

* * *

**Los Angeles – the Hyperion Hotel, Lobby**

**Now**

* * *

Lilah's head was ringing from the force that Buffy had used, as the Slayer slammed her against the wall once more by the shoulders.

"_Explain_," Buffy demanded angrily, her grip just as powerful as Angel's was, a pained Lilah noted. "_**Now**_."

"Okay, okay, oww!" Lilah grumbled as she shook the cobwebs off. "Geez, what's with you people and the head-slamming and the anger management issues?"

"That didn't sound like an explanation to me," Buffy sharply retorted, her beautiful face contorted into an angry scowl. "Now _talk_, while you still have your jaw in place! And believe me, Lola—"

"_Lilah_," the dead lawyer corrected, managing to sound annoyed even through the painful grip Buffy had on her arms.

"Whatever," Buffy dismissively replied before she resumed her threat. "Believe me, that time's disappearing faster than you think."

"Buffy," Angel called out as he neared her side, placing a stern, yet gentle hand on the tiny blonde warrior's shoulder. "Enough. Let's hear her out already."

His own patience with Lilah was fast vanishing as well, granted. But after hearing this latest version in the series of unending bombshells that had been pelting them all over the last few days, Angel knew that right now, information was at a premium.

Her scowl never altering, Buffy pushed herself off and away from Lilah, impatiently folding her arms across her chest as she and the others awaited the dead woman's next words.

"Geez, honey, no need to get all bent out of shape like that," Lilah muttered as she rubbed the back of her head tenderly. "Like I said, I'm just the messenger."

"Then start messaging, lady, before I decide to show you the very literal meaning of 'kill the messenger,'" Buffy replied menacingly.

"A little late for that," Lilah replied, smugly, before smiling to herself. "Ooh, a pun! Ahh, the cleverness of me."

Just as Buffy was about to stalk over and smash the arrogant lawyer's face in, a cool, yet etched voice called out, "Lilah, _enough_! Stop wasting our time with your nonsense, and tell us what you know."

All eyes shot to Wesley, whose normally cool blue were smoldering with intensity. While he did his best to hide it, Lilah's presence was growing more painful to him with every moment, like acid being poured into a hole in his heart, and he just wanted it to stop. For her to go away and leave him alone.

Lilah was dead, they were done, and nothing good could come from prolonged contact with her now.

Off his serious expression and words, Lilah's eyes softened for a moment, before she let out a tired sigh. "Fine…um, all right, where was I?"

"The part you said the First Evil was going to erase all of existence in about three weeks?" Fred answered, still shaken by that news.

"Oh. Right. Thanks for the reminder, Skeeter," Lilah snarked, taking a final pot shot at her one-time romantic rival's 'nerd status' within Team Angel.

The sprightly, cute quantum physics whiz scowled in response, reminded yet again why she disliked this woman so much, but she refused to sink to Lilah's level; she wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Gunn, however, had no problem defending the woman he loved, angrily snapping, "Watch your mouth, Sche-Dead-izade, and get back to the story 'fore I decide to test out how well those stitches holding your head in place really hold up."

Fred flushed at her ex's protective stance for her, feeling somewhat grateful for his defense; yet oddly annoyed that, again, he felt the need to fight her battles for her. _We're definitely gonna have to talk about that later. If there __**is **__a later, anyway._

"Lilah," Angel warned, finally reaching his limit with his old adversary as he started towards her. "Talk. _Now_."

Slightly retreating from the advancing vampire, Lilah quickly began talking. "Okay, okay! Right…" Taking a breath, she said, "To understand what I'm talking about, people, we have to go all the way back to the beginning. The origins of the universe itse—"

"Yeah, yeah, we heard that part already," an unimpressed Buffy interrupted coolly.

Lilah was caught off-guard. "You what?"

"That fallen Power who's caused all the recent mayhem—she calls herself Jasmine—she's already given us the whole 'Origin of the Species' spiel," Angel calmly clarified. "The Big Bang, the birth of the Powers, the origin of the First Evil, all of it."

Lilah seemed oddly disappointed to hear that, like the wind was taken right out of her sails. "Well, knock me over with a shovel. A girl gets all dolled up for her big surprise comeback announcement, only to find out everyone's skipped ahead to the last page of the book?"

"Get _on_ with it, Lilah," Darla snapped, growing tired of this woman's games. "What's all this about the upcoming end of the universe in three weeks' time?"

Lilah shrugged. "I'm actually surprised you don't already know, given what you've learned between our non-resident fallen Power and the unemployed cab driver over there…" she pointed to an offended Whistler, who protested "Hey!" before Lilah continued, "The First is going for the ultimate carnival prize, kids. The coming alignment, which will bring about 'The Awakening'?"

Buffy and Angel turned to each other in confusion, before the Slayer looked back at Whistler. "Awakening?"

Off Whistler's uncomfortable body language, Angel's eyes narrowed as he realized that the balance demon hadn't been as entirely forthcoming as they had originally thought.

"Whistler, what the hell is going on?" Angel demanded as his voice grew tight with anger. "What's she talking about?"

Lilah's smirk returned as she realized the situation. "Oh, my. Looks like the messenger hasn't been doing his job very well, has he?"

Lindsey felt his anger rise as he looked accusingly at Whistler. He thought that the demon had been playing it straight with him, and he absolutely hated being lied to. _What's the matter with me? Guess I really have been out of the game for too long... _"Wait up, you _knew_ about this?"

Ignoring the ex-lawyer, Whistler let out an uneasy sigh as he turned his gaze to Angel and Buffy. "Look, I know what you two are thinking; but I swear, it's not what it looks like—"

"Oh, for your sake, I hope not," Buffy cut him off, as she slowly began advancing on the balance demon, crosshairs practically visible in her angry green eyes. "Because if what the not-so-nice dead lady told us is true, and you've been holding out on us with intel we need to save the world? I really am going to finally rip out your ribcage to use as a hat."

"Yeah. Still, I had my reasons for not going into that part of it, Slayer," Whistler sighed, although he had the smarts to take a step back from the approaching blonde powerhouse. "Look, it wasn't supposed to have come to this. The Awakening would be irrelevant right now, if you'd just let the womb with a view kill that Jasmine thing when she had the chance—"

"Whistler, _what_ is going on?" Buffy snapped, cutting him off savagely. "Talk!"

As the entire room's eyes fell upon him, Whistler blushed slightly as he cleared his throat. "Well, Dead Girl over there is right about a few things. For starters, there is a multiverse out there. Of course, all you guys would be well aware of that, given your experiences over the last couple of years. And Jasmine wasn't blowing smoke up your collective asses with that story about the birth of Time. All that's legit."

Everyone stared as Whistler snorted, "What she probably forgot to mention was that it was the Powers' battle against the First Evil what caused all of those different realities to become fragmented into existence. All different kinds of lifetimes existing in some kind of shattered pattern, like the way a windshield looks when you take a baseball bat to it."

"Meaning?" Giles and Wesley said together at the same time.

Whistler shrugged. "Just about all the people in this lobby? There are over a million different versions of you in existence out there, somewhere." He pointed at Willow. "Thousands of you." Then at Buffy. "Thousands of you." Then at Angel. "Thousands of you, too. Heck, apart from the Vision Girl, there are simply too many versions of you people to count throughout the multiverse."

"But—and here's where things get kinda kooky—there's a legend from way back…a legend about a certain moment in time. One big perfect moment where everyone, and everything…everywhere…is suddenly connected. Like a big, smushed up jigsaw puzzle suddenly fitting together perfectly again."

"L-like the Great Attractor, you mean?" Fred asked, her scientific curiosity piqued.

Willow's eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh, right! That thing where every galaxy in the universe looks as if it's streaming together into one spot, like the, uh, exact center of the universe?"

"Well, sort of; but not exactly," Whistler tried to explain.

"'_Sort of, but not exactly_.' Contradiction much, Hat Boy?" Gunn snarked.

"Anyway," Whistler restarted his explanation, ignoring Gunn's remark. "That moment is called 'The Awakening.' It's a, uh, flash-point where every single galaxy, every dimension, every living thing right down to the last speck in all of reality is aligned, in perfect balance. For just a few moments, everything everywhere is exactly where it should be."

"So who exactly decides how this 'should be' is defined?" Buffy asked contrarily. Given all the events of her life up until now, it was very hard for her to accept what she was hearing. In the Slayer's view, her mother should never have died from the aneurysm; ditto Tara at the hands of Warren. If what Whistler was saying was true then those two should have been _here_, right now, during this, the most important battle of her life.

A vague memory tickled Anya's mind, as she recalled an episode of the TV show called Babylon 5 which Xander had once forced her to watch with him. She then had a burst of insight, "Oh, I get it! It's a collective decision from the input of everyone and everything alive. It's kinda like that 'one moment of perfect beauty' thing those stupid misogynistic scriptwriters came up with, isn't it? Probably while they were lounging around and sipping their piña coladas by the pool, sure, but still..."

"It doesn't matter who defines what, Demon Girl, only that the moment of cosmic alignment takes place," Lilah cut in. "When The Awakening happens - which is roughly once every half a billion years, by the way—that confers an opportunity for either something very special, or something completely disastrous to occur."

"How so?" Wesley asked, somehow finding his voice again.

"Why don't you ask your fearless leader over there?" Lilah's eyes ticked to a now-surprised Angel, who was being stared at in shock by everyone in the room.

"Me?" Angel blurted out, bewildered.

At that, Buffy grew even more alert. "Angel, what's she talking about?"

"Damned if I know," Angel answered, equally as perplexed. "I have no idea what the First is planning!"

"Perhaps not consciously," Wesley suggested. "After all, remember how we learned the information about the Beast?"

At that, Lorne turned even greener than normal. "Oh, crimeny crickets; does that mean we have to bring out Angelus to play again?"

The remaining Scoobies and the rest of the Fang Gang shuddered at that idea, many of them all too familiar with Angel's darker half.

Giles visibly tensed at that notion, a torrent of bad memories flooding him at that name. "Angelus? What does he have to do with this?"

"Nothing, and we're going to keep it that way," Angel replied tersely, his eyes resting squarely on Wesley for emphasis. After what had happened last time—and especially now, with Buffy, his son and everyone he ever cared about all under one roof—there was no way that the Champion was going to allow his evil alter ego to emerge from his cage again.

"Damn right," Buffy harshly added, the nightmare of her junior year in high school flickering through her memory like a bad movie. "There's no way in hell we're bringing Angelus back. So you can forget that idea right now, Wes."

"Relax, Legally Blonde," Lilah waved off Buffy's concerns, directing what appeared to be a mischievous - or more like, malicious - gaze at Angel. "We don't need your undead boy toy's better half. Just the toy surprise that a certain ex-PTB left in his noggin."

A beat, before she spoke a Latin word. "_Aperio_." Which, loosely translated, meant 'reveal.'

Without warning, Angel's head began buzzing with an unbearable static-like sound. He started gasping as he fell to the floor, his eyes glowing a greenish hue and a jumble of ancient, archaic images flashing before his eyes.

Almost immediately, a panicked Buffy was at his side followed by Wesley, as everyone gathered close to the fallen Champion.

"Angel? _Angel_! What's wrong?" Buffy frantically pleaded, her voice getting louder as she cradled his head in her lap. Yet Angel was unresponsive, only making several unintelligible noises as he twitched and spasmed in his former lover's anxious embrace.

"Good Lord," Giles uttered in shock.

"What the hell?" Lindsey stared in awe.

"Angel!" Kate exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"Does he _look_ okay?" Buffy snapped offhandedly.

"What's happening to him?" a worried Dawn asked. "Willow?"

"I don't know! I don't know!" an equally scared Willow answered.

"What do we do?" a concerned Lorne asked.

Oz was also more than a little worried about his old friend. "Angel, talk to us!"

"Angel! C'mon, man, stay with us!" Gunn shouted encouragement to his friend and boss.

"Stop it! You're killing him!" a frightened and angry Fred shouted at Lilah, who simply smirked back at her.

"For God's sake, Lilah!" Darla shouted angrily.

"Oh, relax. It should all be over soon," Lilah replied, glancing over towards Whistler; who simply shrugged.

"Dad!" Connor cried out, his familial instincts overriding whatever issues he might have had with Angel at that moment.

"Angel, can you hear me?" Wesley loudly spoke, trying to reach the nearly catatonic vampire. "Come back to us!"

Buffy kept hold of him, her small hands frantically touching his handsome, pained face. _Angel, c'mon. Please don't do this. You're too strong to let some stupid spell be the end of you. Please don't leave me again. Not now. Not when we're so close to getting back to where we belong. Not when I need you the most... Angel…come back to me. __**Please**__!_

With her voice filled to the brim in fear, Buffy shouted one more time. "_**ANGEL**_!"

* * *

**Los Angeles – 1481 Hyperion Avenue, just outside the Hyperion Hotel**

**Midnight**

* * *

Xander cursed the limp in his step and the pain in his leg as he hobbled outside the hotel in search of Cordelia, just as the clock heralded the start of the witching hour in the City of Angels.

"Cordy!" Harris called out, constantly wincing in pain as he made it outside the archway of the hotel's entrance. Overhead, the night sky was clouded over; the cool murkiness of incoming rainfall was definitely in the air. "C'mon, Cor, wait up!"

Luckily for his ailing limbs, Xander didn't have to limp too far as he looked to his right, only a few feet away…where Cordelia was leaning against a street lamp, her slender figure slumped in an agony emanating from the depths of her grief-stricken soul.

Xander felt his heart drop into his stomach as he watched the shattered young woman, desperation and gloom enveloping her entire being. "Cordy…"

He had never seen her like this before. Even as bad as last night had been, and this morning, it wasn't anything like this.

The brunette Seer, always so proud and sure of herself, so full of fire and spirit…now looked like she was about to collapse, like a puppet with its strings cut. The way she clutched that pole so tightly, it looked like Cordelia was hanging off the edge of a cliff…and she was losing her grip fast.

And then, as if the Powers felt the need to add more darkness to this grim scenario, the cloudy sky suddenly opened up and it began raining, the water pouring down hard all over the street.

As he neared her, Xander could just barely make out a few soft, anguished words slowly escaping her lips: "No point…useless…"

"Cordy?" Xander spoke up as he came alongside her, putting a gentle yet firm hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Cordelia, it's starting to rain. C'mon, we have to get inside, or, or at least somewhere drier. You don't wanna catch pneumonia, now, do you? That can screw you up big-time." He offered a weak smile. "Not to mention what the rain is gonna do to your hair."

Xander's words only barely registered with the hunched-over Seer still clinging to the street lamp, though. The rain started drenching her thin, tight green tee shirt completely, giving Harris an appreciative view of the black bra strap on her back, the water cascading down Cordelia's slender shoulders like a waterfall.

He was a guy, so Xander couldn't help the thoughts that suddenly rushed through his brain concerning his ex-girlfriend. Still, almost immediately he felt ashamed of said lustful thoughts that were running rampant in his mind, because Harris knew full well that this beautiful yet heartbroken woman before him needed help - not hormones.

And she needed it now. And since they were alone out here on the street, the only one who could help her at the moment…was him.

"Screw up…" Cordelia's strangled voice caught Xander's attention again, followed by a small, bitter and hollow laugh. "Story of my life, isn't it? That's all I've ever done. Time and time again. Better than anyone. Screw up."

Xander began shaking his head. "No, Cordy, you're not—"

"You of all people know what I was like as a kid," the Seer cut him off, as if he hadn't said a thing. "Right from the start, I was _bad_.Like, Veruca Salt in 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' bad. If my parents didn't buy me whatever I wanted, I'd scream and cry and bawl my lungs out, no matter how hard they tried to get me to knock it off. I even told them I hated them once, when they didn't buy me that Malibu Barbie dream house set for Christmas. And remember when I made fun of Willow when she cried, that day she lost that spelling bee in kindergarten?"

It was a memory Xander couldn't forget, yet preferred not to examine too closely right now. Up until then, he and Willow and Jesse and Cordelia had played together as the best of friends. But when he'd defended Willow against her that day, it had ignited the young Cordelia's wrath; the five-year-old Xander had resorted to throwing dirt on her brand-new dress after all the mean words she'd said to him, making the Chase girl cry and earning her long-lasting enmity.

Until one insane day after they'd been trapped in Buffy's basement, during their junior year of high school.

"Yeah," was Xander's soft reply to Cordelia's question. "I remember…"

"And don't even get me started on what I was like in high school," Cordelia went on, staring despondently at the ground, her face wet with rain and the shine of tears beginning to form. "Clothes, friends, boyfriends…deep down, they all meant nothing. I used them, and when I was done with them, I'd just throw them away like trash. God, I was such a _bitch_! I never cared about anything or anyone but myself, and getting out of that hellhole of a town. Before I came here, before I started working with Angel and everyone else, the only time I ever thought I could be more was…"

Cordelia swallowed the bitter lump in her throat as her voice began to waver. "…was when I was with you, Xander."

Harris felt his eyes begin to tingle, and he had to swallow hard at the overwhelming emotion that those words were causing him, awash in a sea of memories and kisses from a high school romance that had ended in the worst way imaginable. _My_ _God…Cordy…_

"But I messed that up, too," the Chase woman muttered miserably, sliding slightly down the pole as she lost herself in her misery.

"What? No, you didn't! That's crazy talk," Xander said immediately. "I was the one who kissed Willow, remember?"

"I could have forgiven you. Could have taken you back. Not straightaway after the rebar, sure; but I saw the way you kept looking at me that spring, Xander, and I wasn't blind to how you were acting around Wesley after I showed my interest in him," Cordelia said lifelessly. "Ever wondered what our lives would have been like, if I'd accepted that offer to go with you on that road trip...instead of cutting all ties completely?"

"Well, uh..." Xander stammered, not sure what to say.

"It could have led to...something. Maybe. But instead, I left. Naïve idiot that I was, I thought that I could reinvent myself in a new place, chase a new dream, create a new beginning for myself as an actress…something I sucked at so badly, that I couldn't even get my agent to give me a call back on a lousy TV commercial. Not even those people at community theatre wanted me back after that first night's performance." A bitter snort escaped her. "Ask Angel and Wes, they were there. And Doyle?"

Cordelia bit her lip hard to keep from crying like a baby at the memory of her half-Irish half-Brachen demon sweetheart, his sloppy grin, his goofy dress sense, and his amazingly big heart. "God help me, but I treated him like crap until I realized just how amazing he really was. I didn't even see what kind of future I could have had with him, until it was too late…he passed his gift on to me, his most precious possession, and what did I do with it?"

The tears began falling again. "Let myself be seduced by it, so much so that I was willing to do almost _anything_ to keep it. I let myself be turned into a pawn, a sap who endangered the lives of my real family…not to mention the whole world. It wasn't enough to screw up my own life; I had to screw up everyone else's as well! _That's_ what it means to be Cordelia Chase."

Xander began to protest. "No, Cordy, that's not—"

"And now I find out that - that I'm the last one," the Seer interrupted him, Lilah's cruel words echoing in her brain. "If what Lilah said is true…and I think we both believe her, right? Then all I am is just a, a cosmic joke. God's garbage. Jasmine's used-up pawn here, and a pointless extra everywhere else. I swear to God, Xander, I wish I'd died or ended up in a coma like all those other Cordelia's out there—"

By this point, Harris had heard all of this that he could take. Grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face him, his bruised face filled with emotion, Xander said, "_Hey! _Don't you say that. Don't you _ever_ say that again! You hear me? You are _not _worthless, Cordy, and this world is _not_ better off without you! Damn it, Cor, come on! You're not just gonna let some evil bitch in Prada mess with your head like this, are you? Or did you go all soft playing secretary to Dead Boy here in Tinseltown?"

Harris was trying to provoke her, get a rise out of her, get…something out of his ex-girlfriend that could snap her out of the complete and utter despair which seemed to engulf her like a mire of quicksand. But the forlorn young woman that stared back at him now was a far cry from that brunette spitfire whom he'd once fallen in love with.

Xander's glare melted into concern, the rain making his face slick and his vision blurry. "Cordy, please…we need you."

She shook her head, her spirit in shambles. "For _what_? All that I was ever meant for...I've accomplished. Failed actress. Vision Girl. Patsy. What else is there for me to do now? Tell me that, Xander. What's Cordelia Chase supposed to accomplish _now_?"

Cordelia suddenly pushed him away, staggering slowly, aimlessly onto the street, leaving Xander confused as to what she was doing…

…until the bright lights and the honking horn of an oncoming, fast-moving tow truck caught his attention, only thirty feet away from the dazed and broken Seer.

Twenty feet. Fifteen…

Xander had no time to process how Cordelia was simply standing there in the middle of the road, with a hopeless look in those beautiful hazel eyes of hers, almost welcoming the imminent death the truck would certainly bring. Or how his leg flared with pain from each movement. Or even hear his own scream…

"_**CORDY**_!"

…he only knew that he had to move fast. And despite how he'd almost been beaten to death by Skip not so long ago, Xander somehow managed to do just that - knocking Cordelia out of the way of the truck, which sped by in a blur of hot air and gas fumes as the former couple landed on the hard asphalt on the other side of the road.

Harris barely had time to catch his breath, before Cordelia began squirming furiously underneath him, struggling and slapping at him. "What are you doing? Get off of me, Xander! GET OFF!"

Angrily grabbing her wrists, Xander yanked her forcefully up until she was in a sitting position. "What am I doing? What are _you_ doing? Do you have a death wish or something? You could have died just now!"

"Don't you get it? I WANT TO!" Cordelia screamed, shaking as she did so. "I can't take this anymore! I can't take it! I _**can't**_! It hurts too much!"

"I know," Xander said, trying to sympathize as Cordelia abruptly yanked him up to his feet. She then hauled him off the street onto the other side of Hyperion Avenue as, despite no longer caring if she lived or died, something within her—some small spark of primal female instinct—didn't want Xander Harris to die thanks to her actions.

"Cordy, we talked about this before, I understand—"

"No, you don't!" Cordelia screamed, tears and rain making her mascara run. And even then, never had Xander ever seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

"You can't tell me you know what it feels like! You didn't screw up so badly that other people died because of it! You didn't let your friends down the way I did, you didn't hurt so many people because you were so selfish and stupid as to do _anything_ to hold onto something that was killing you just because you wanted to feel special! You haven't screwed up over and over and over again the way I did. So, don't tell me that you know, because you don't, Harris! You can't know! You _can't_!"

"So, what, the answer's killing yourself?" Xander shouted incredulously. "Causing everyone else even _more_ pain? Buffy and Darla nearly _died_ trying to get that Jasmine thing out of you. Skip almost killed _me _when he decided to murder you! So what's that mean, Cordy—everything we did, everything we went through, it was all for nothing? We were just wasting our time trying to save you? Well, sorry, but I ain't buying that one! For God's sake, did you ever stop and consider what killing yourself would do to your friends? To the people who care about you?"

However much Harris tried to suppress it, the thought refused to be silenced. _Did she consider what committing suicide would do to __**me**__?_

"Duh! It's called being unable to live with what's happened; haven't you been paying attention?" Cordelia screamed at him through the pouring rain, as lightning briefly lit up the sky.

Shaking his head Harris replied, "No. No, I don't accept that. We can fix this, Cordelia. You. Me. All of us. There's still time—"

"Time? Time for _what_? For **_who_**, Xander?" Cordy snapped, angry tears coming down her face as thunder boomed overhead. "Lilah? Manny? Maybe that nice Svear family that I remember slaughtering with my own two hands? Or how about all the people who ended up dead over the last three weeks because of me? I even made _your_ life pure hell for six months, remember? All I've ever done is cause other people pain. That's all I'm good for, so I just want it to stop. I just…I just want to go to sleep, and never wake up again. Turn out the lights for good. I just..._I just wanna die_."

Cordelia began to sob brokenly, pleading eyes beseeching the injured young man desperately holding onto her. "Xander, please…why won't you let me just lie down and die?"

Stunned, Xander was literally lost for words as he realized just how serious Cordelia was about that. Just how much she was hurting right now. That lost, empty look in her eyes left no doubts about what she wanted. And the truth was, someone else in his position might have been tempted to let her go...

After all, was it better to end such suffering than to let it continue, every day more hellish than the next, being constantly consumed by one's own unending guilt and torment? What kind of a life could she have, if Angel and her friends had to put Cordelia on suicide watch for the rest of her days? What if there was nothing anyone could do but helplessly watch the Seer go mad from the anguish of perceived weakness, and unending remorse?

But Xander just couldn't do it. He couldn't let Cordelia kill herself, anymore than he could have stood aside and let Willow destroy the world ten months ago. He still cared too much about his high school girlfriend, she still meant too much for him to lose her to her own demons now. _  
_

Especially if what that Lilah Morgan person had said was true, and she was indeed the last living and self-aware Cordelia Chase left in all the multiverse; because that meant that this Cordelia (above and beyond all others) needed to be cared for, protected…loved.

For a moment, Xander was reminded of the lyrics from an old Mariah Carey song he heard as a kid:

_Even though I try, I can't let go_

_Something in your eyes captured my soul_

_And every night I see you in my dreams,_

_You're all I know, I can't let go…_

Harris tenderly brushed Cordelia's rain-slick hair back from her face, gently cupping her cheek. For a moment he didn't know what to say, but then it was as if the words spilled out of his mouth of their own volition.

"Never gonna happen. Ever," Xander said softly, a watery smile on his lips. "Cordy, I'm begging you, listen to me…we still need you. This thing happening with the First and Jasmine—we can't save the world without you. I know that when we were together, I wasn't always there for you the way I should have been; but I'm here now. And truth is I don't know what the future holds, except for this—I'm not giving up on you. So please…don't give up on yourself." He remembered what Dawn told him were Buffy's final words to her before she died to save the world…words he hoped could reach the distraught beauty before him. "Live. For me. Please?"

Cordelia's eyes shone in the street lights, even as the darkness of the night's stormy weather hovered all around them. "It hurts, Xander…" she croaked weakly.

Harris brought her closer to him, bringing Cordelia's head to rest against the crook of his neck. "I know," he whispered into her ear as he gently rocked her trembling form. "I know. But it'll get better. I promise you, it gets better. And I'm not going anywhere until it does. I'm here, Cordy…I'm here."

And as the rain poured down upon the former Zeppo and the former princess, both of them ignoring the curious looks from people passing by in their cars, Cordelia's desperate and miserable sobs were released in a cathartic wave as she wrapped her arms around Xander's neck, holding onto him as if she had fallen overboard into a freezing ocean...and he was the only thing that was keeping her from drowning.

The only thing keeping her alive.

* * *

**Los Angeles – the Hyperion Hotel lobby**

**A few minutes previously**

* * *

As the Chosen One turned her gaze from Angel's anguished face, the undead hero still convulsing and twitching on the floor, the fire in Buffy's green eyes grew to inferno-like levels as she zeroed her hunter-like gaze upon Lilah.

In a flash, Buffy was slamming the Morgan woman back against the wall by the throat, the blonde's teeth bared in a snarl that would have given even a hunting lioness pause.

"Make it stop," Buffy growled, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "_Now_!"

Wincing as Buffy's grip tightened around her throat, Lilah rasped out, "Again with the throat thing—_urrk_!" Steadying herself as Buffy relaxed her grip enough for her to talk properly, the attorney added, "Sorry, sweetie. But once the spell's started, there's no way to stop it."

"If he dies," Buffy squeezed on the dead lawyer's throat a little tighter for emphasis. "_You_ die. Again."

Coughing once, Lilah managed to answer. "Relax…your dreamboat's not in any danger…this is just a little history lesson…"

Moments later, Angel's painful spasms stopped, the vampire detective rolling over onto his stomach, wobbling as he struggled to get vertical.

"All of you, stand back and give him some room," Wesley barked out, prompting everyone to back away as Angel staggered to his feet, wobbling almost drunkenly.

"Angel?" a relieved Buffy gasped as she tossed Lilah aside and ran over to him, allowing the Champion to lean on her for support. "Angel, are you okay?"

An astonished look—one with a sense of amazing clarity—dawned upon his handsome face. "I can see it."

Buffy frowned in confusion. "See what?"

At that moment, Angel suddenly bolted from her, grabbing a nearby black marker, then scrambling to a nearby wall, carelessly shoving a desk filled with books aside with one hand, the contents tumbling to the floor. Then the Champion began furiously scribbling and drawing strange, ancient-looking glyphs, and a diagram of something that appeared to look like the solar system. Several of them, in fact; all with an uncanny speed and artistic accuracy.

The others all stood in awe, watching in confusion as Angel painted the walls of the Hyperion with what could only be described as a tapestry...one that currently existed only in his head.

"What's he doing?" a stunned Connor asked, watching his father in concern.

"If you figure it out before I do, clue me in," Buffy muttered as she stared, equally mystified, at Angel's scrawling, which appeared to take the shape of several constellations. Surrounded by an odd, ancient-looking language.

"He's mapping it out," Fred uttered in realization, which drew most eyes to her. Flushed under the attention, Fred hastily explained. "Oh, uh, sometimes, I-I have equations in my head, and, well, paper's not enough to fit all of it in, so I…kinda use the walls."

"Guess that pretty much explains why your room looked like a science grad student's notebook for the first few months you were here, doesn't it, Lamb Chop?" Lorne prompted.

Fred laughed nervously. "I guess I have a lot of thoughts."

Moments later, Angel managed to finish an awe-inspiring sight: a diagram of dimensions and constellations, centered around their own, Earth.

Buffy swallowed, taking in the large drawings in front of her. "That's one hell of a thought."

Giles immediately focused on the strange glyphs around the enormous diagram that Angel had drawn. "I-I-I can't say that I've ever seen a language like that before."

"Neither can I," Wesley frowned.

"That's 'cause you ain't supposed to recognize it," Whistler spoke up, walking closer to the diagram. "This is what's colloquially known as the 'Language of the Eternals.' First ever mother tongue, people; the original, from which Enochian and all the other ancient languages evolved. Created by the Powers That Be after their creation of the Earth. Lost to the record books and minds of man…but fortunately, being their messenger 'n all, the Powers have it hardwired into my brain."

"So, make with the translation, already!" Buffy snapped, still peeved at Whistler for holding out on them. "We're not exactly all with oodles of time to burn."

After sighing in annoyance, Whistler began his translation, "'In the time of the Awakening, when all becomes one, the Eye shall awaken, and the Light shall come…"

"…but if in its presence Evil stands," Angel cut in, the words as clear as day to him, his eyes intense, his face a portrait of worry. "…then darkness shall swallow both time and land."

His eyes lit up with understanding and shock. "Oh my God. I know what The First is planning to do now..."

"Something tells me it isn't about making more evil limericks, is it?" Buffy nervously joked.

"The Eye of Creation," Angel responded, turning to Buffy in grim seriousness. "It's planning to open it."

"Eye of Creation? The original singularity through which the Powers emerged?" Giles blurted out in surprise, recalling that part of the story which Angel, Buffy and Cordelia had recently told the group.

"You got it, librarian," Lilah replied, her smirk still present but her tone more serious. "The Source of All Life. The Genesis of the Universe. The Great Giver. And with the entire multiverse aligning in three weeks and change, that's the one time in, oh, about a few billion lifetimes, that the Eye of Creation will have the chance to open up again, connecting all of the different realities and organisms at once."

"How?" Willow asked, intrigued.

"According to my info, should the Eye ever open up again, it'd produce something the Powers call the Flame of Life," Whistler explained. "It's a light so pure, not to mention so powerful, that it'd pierce the very fabric of reality—reaching literally everywhere at the same moment. Bottom line, it's the original light of Creation; kinda like what was in that Indiana Jones movie way back when, but the real deal instead of Hollywood special effects. By definition, it embodies the sacred, the holy…everything good."

The way he said it sent a shiver down Angel's spine. Just the idea of something so pure and…holy, made him feel unworthy to even be in the presence of its words. There was only one thing that could ever match that feeling for him…and she was standing there, just a few feet from him with a confused look on her face.

"Okay, so, flame pretty. I get that," Buffy frowned. "But how does that help the First?"

"Because, like with all things, in the wrong hands...even the purest thing can be corrupted," Lilah replied. "There are all sorts of theories of what can happen if the light is unleashed by a pure and worthy soul, none of which are important right now. But if it's unleashed by something as twisted as, say, the source of all Evil? The power of the Eye could destroy everything. This world, other worlds, all of the realities comprising the Multiverse…everything."

"Fortunately, the Powers realized that," Whistler interjected. "So, they put safeguards around the Eye. Built a temple around it and hid it in a pocket dimension on this planet, one only accessible at the time of the Awakening by a living Power. Or, at least, the body of one."

Buffy turned to Angel in shock as the First's plan now became transparent to her. "Jasmine," she realized. "That's why the First has been jonesing for her body so badly."

"It needs the key to the Eye," Angel elaborated, his face still troubled. "And with its essence within Jasmine's body…"

"…it could access that pocket dimension to activate the Eye of Creation when the Alignment takes place," a stunned Fred deduced.

"Yep. And then we can kiss all of existence goodbye," Whistler finished up sourly.

At that, Buffy whirled on him, her eyes crackling in anger. "You _knew _about this. All along! And you didn't tell us, _why_?"

"Because I had my orders on the subject, gorgeous," Whistler shrugged. "I already told you, it wasn't supposed to come to this! Look, the Powers have a lot of secrets, and this was the biggest one; like it or not, there are some things that I can only discuss with you people on a need to know basis."

"Well, guess what, Frumple-stilskin—with the End of All Time coming up in a couple of days? I'm thinking we definitely _need to freakin' know_!" Buffy snapped angrily.

"Geez, dial it down a notch, will you? I'm on your side here!" Whistler tried to placate her.

At that, Angel cut in, just as angry, "In that case, Whistler, quit stalling for time and just tell us where the Keystone is, before I tear it out of you!"

Buffy turned quizzical eyes to Angel. "Keystone?"

Angel let out a strained sound from his lips, realizing he was going to have to explain and wanting instead to get more answers from the friendly neighborhood balance demon. "That stuff Jasmine put into my head about the Eye…it's not as simple as just showing up at the right time and place to awaken it. It needs to be activated by something that the Powers call the Keystone. Long, shiny crystal, forged from the Flame of Life itself just after the birth of the universe. It's the only thing that can re-activate the singularity. Without it, no dice."

"So why not just destroy it? End the goddamn threat potential?" Gunn wanted to know.

"No can do, Denzel. The Keystone is impossible to destroy," Lilah smirked at him. "Real annoying, isn't it?"

An idea flickered in Buffy's mind. "Wait…this Flame of Life thing-y. It's supposed to be some kinda ultimate super-power, right? So, if we can somehow use it against the First…would that be enough to destroy it?"

"The Senior Partners seem to think so," Lilah answered, with a shrug. "The Flame of Life is the most powerful known force in all the realities, Slayer. If harnessed correctly as a weapon, nothing could stand against it. Not even the First Evil."

"And so, that begs the question concerning this pocket dimension…where is it?" Wesley asked.

A beat. "Sunnydale. Smack dab on top of the Hellmouth," Lilah smugly declared as she eyed Buffy.

The blonde Slayer only gave a dry, resigned laugh. "Of course it is. Because my life just wouldn't have it any other way."

Oz understood it now. "So it's a race, then."

"Bingo, ah...Dog Boy, wasn't it?" Lilah snarked at Oz, earning herself a glare from Willow. "Either get to the Eye of Creation before the First does…or watch as the First Evil destroys all life as you know it."

A sense of foreboding purpose fell upon the heroes in the Hyperion Hotel at those words. So, this was finally it. Their greatest task, their biggest mission ever—stop the First, or say goodbye to the entire cosmos.

Andrew looked floored. "Wow," he breathed, lost in complete geek mode. "This just got epic. Like…'Empire Strikes Back' epic."

Off Buffy's annoyed glace, Anya nodded…and once again, smacked Andrew upside the head.

"Ow! Quit it! Why does everyone keep doing that?" he muttered.

"Okay, so where is this key crystal thingamajig?" Buffy tersely asked Whistler.

Whistler sheepishly scratched his head. "Sorry, kid, but that I don't know. For real this time. The Keystone was hidden underneath a Mayan temple for the last few thousand years, but when I checked on it before coming here, it was gone."

"Gone?" Willow blurted out. "This thing is the key to acquiring what's supposed to be the most powerful weapon in existence, and you _lost_ it?"

_I don't **believe** this! _Buffy was livid. "If you and the Powers were any more useless, you'd be Algebra!"

_I knew it! _Dawn thought to herself in triumph, as that branch of mathematics was her least favorite subject to study.

"Not lost," Lilah drew their attention, as she walked to the doorway and picked up the small black suitcase that she had brought with her. "Just…repossessed."

With that, she tossed the case to Angel, who swiftly caught it in midair before opening it…revealing a yellowish, shiny crystal inside.

As the others gathered around in awe, Lorne asked, "Whoa…is that what I think it is?"

"Yup," Lilah nodded in satisfaction. "Say hello to the Keystone, guys and gals. A few archaeologists found it in Peru last year, and sold it to the local branch of Wolfram & Hart at a pretty penny. Of course, we've got plenty of pennies left where those came from."

Ignoring the hopeful faces of his friends and allies, Angel's brown eyes filled with suspicion as he looked at Lilah. "And you're just _giving_ it to us? Why? What's the catch?"

"The end of the world is the catch, Ace," Lilah retorted with a snort. "If the First gets what it wants, then the Senior Partners will be erased from existence along with everything else. _Including_ your know-it-all Powers That Be. If it wins, we all lose. This is just my bosses' way of trying to protect themselves, covering their own asses."

Handing the briefcase off to Lorne Angel approached Lilah, sensing there was more to this than what she was telling. "Okay, that's putting a real nice PR spin on it. Kinda masterful, really," he smoothly replied. Then Angel's face hardened, "Now, cut the crap and tell me what they're _really _planning—before I make sure that your next costume at your evil Halloween corporate party is a damn good imitation of the Headless Horseman."

"Violence against a helpless woman? Now, really, Angel, what kind of example is that to set for your son?" Lilah snarked, before her eyes widened in fear at Angel's fast approaching figure. "Okay, okay! Geez, get a sense of humor…you know by now about the Watchers Council attacks, right?"

Wesley's eyes turned away for a moment, reminded of his father's recent demise. Again, Darla felt her heart move as she felt the need to comfort him.

The soft look in Darla's eyes did not escape Lilah, who felt a flare of jealousy spike within her at the way the former vampire was eyeing her beloved Wesley.

But stifling that feeling, Ms. Morgan continued, "Well, they weren't the only ones targeted. There've also been attacks on our operations all across the globe. LA, Rome, Paris, Madrid, New York, Chicago, Belize, Johannesburg, Tokyo, New Delhi, Sydney, you name it. Office buildings firebombed, high-ranking personnel having their throats slit in their sleep, lawyers being murdered on their way home from work, field operatives ambushed, even employees out on sick leave dropping like flies. All thanks to the First and its minions. Most of the company's resources in this realm have been severely compromised, and our connections to the Senior Partners have been cut off, since the highest ranking of our…instruments…have gone into hiding, for their own safety."

Buffy smirked as she realized what Lilah was saying. "They're hunting you down. The First and all its lackeys, especially the Bringers."

"Hunt-ed, sweetie. Your little possessed friend Cordelia managed to finish the job," Lilah corrected. "Right now, what's left of Wolfram & Hart in this plane is hanging on by a thread. This isn't about right or wrong anymore; it's about survival. The Senior Partners have concluded that the only way to ensure their survival…lies in helping the vaunted Champion for the Powers and arguably the greatest Slayer in recorded history defeat the First, once and for all. And that's exactly why I'm here."

Looking at Angel, she straightened up. "I've been authorized to propose to you…an alliance."

Angel regarded her skeptically. "An alliance. With Wolfram & Hart?"

"No, with Bert and Ernie," Lilah smartly retorted. "Of course, with Wolfram & Hart! We still have several thousand commando squads ready for combat—thick as a brick in the head of course, but still capable of following orders—and that doesn't even scratch the surface of what the Senior Partners can still bring to the table. You, your Slayer, your little friends and our resources…together, we might just have what it takes to bring the First Evil down for the count, and make sure it stays down."

After a beat of silence from the others, Lorne muttered, "I hate to say it, but the dead lady makes a lot of sense. I mean, it's not exactly like we're bursting with firepower here. A little help could go a long way, Angel-cake."

As much as Buffy was loathe to admit it, she was inclined to side with Lorne on this one. They were running out of time—literally—and the coming battle wasn't going to get any easier.

To paraphrase, better the devil you know than the devil that could stomp you into the ground and grind you into pasty pieces.

"I have a question," Darla spoke up, not taking her eyes off Lilah. "What's in it for you? What does Wolfram & Hart want in return?"

"Short term, to save our own asses and this world which the Partners are planning to take over one day," Lilah replied honestly. "And as for the long term…" A coy smile towards Angel. "Well, we can discuss that afterwards."

"No. I meant _you_, personally, Lilah," Darla riposted, her tone suspicious. "What were you offered to get Angel to agree to all this? The Senior Partners must have promised you something - we both know how that's the way they work. So what did they offer you? To resurrect you the way I was, perhaps? Power? Maybe a new Gucci bag?"

"What my bosses ultimately have in mind for me is none of your business, Working Girl—" Lilah started to say.

"DON'T call her that!" Connor abruptly snarled, looking as if he wanted to charge forward and tear the lawyer's head off just like his father before him, before Dawn grabbed hold of his hand, and silently persuaded him to cool it.

"Whatever, _Steven_," Lilah said to the infuriated Miracle Child scornfully before she looked back at Darla. "But as I said, that's none of your business."

Angel had heard enough, by this point. True, they could use help; he was the first to admit that. But he wasn't desperate enough to make a deal with the likes of Wolfram & Hart, not even to stop the First Evil. That would be like cutting off his nose to spite his face.

"All right, your one minute is now officially up. So why don't you align your ass with my front door, and walk out the way you came?" Angel curtly replied. "Tell your masters that I'd rather take my chances riding into battle with Bert and Ernie before I ever side with them."

"Angel," Buffy cut in, her tone hesitant in a way that made Angel wary. "Hold on a minute…"

While surprised, Angel saw with clarity what the small blonde beauty was thinking. "Buffy, don't even think about it! These people—"

"—are the scum of the earth, yeah, I get that," she interrupted. "But we've got to think about this for a second."

"Why?" Anya finally spoke up again, as everyone looked at her.

"What do you mean?" Andrew asked from his place alongside.

"I mean, why? Buffy, you're not seriously considering an alliance with the Wolf, Ram and Hart, are you? Geez, I thought you knew how making deals with the Devil never works out the way you think it will. For Yekk's sake, I certainly do—eleven hundred years of experience talking here," the former vengeance demon replied.

"This is different," Buffy told her impatiently.

"Really? Have you forgotten what happened in that damned frat house, a few months ago?" Anya demanded, drawing looks of confusion from many of those present in the hotel lobby. "I thought I was going to have to die in order to undo what I did that night, but instead, D'hoffryn killed my best friend in my place to resurrect those useless jerks! And if you think that was bad? Getting into bed with these Senior Partner guys will be a _million_ times worse!"

Grimacing, Angel grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her aside from the group for a minute, the former lovers speaking in hushed whispers.

"Listen to me," Angel whispered harshly. "Your friend is absolutely right about Wolfram & Hart. We can't trust them!"

"I _don't_ trust them," Buffy told him quietly. "But we have to think about the bigger picture here, right? Jasmine's still missing, the First just recruited a big-time player to its side in Horn-Head, and apocalypse season just developed a very short time limit. I say we need all the help we can get at this point…no matter the source."

"You don't know Wolfram & Hart like I do, Buffy," Angel hissed. "They've got some kind of angle on this. It's what they do. Trust me, whatever help Wolfram & Hart offers always comes with a price. And that price is always too costly in the end."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "More costly than the end of the universe?"

Angel folded his arms in steadfast resolve. "I'd rather not find out. We keep the crystal, but I'm tossing her ass out of here."

The Summers woman could barely believe what she was hearing. "You'd really risk everyone's lives just because of your moral principles?"

"It's not that simple," Angel argued.

"Looks that way to me," Buffy countered.

"I'm telling you, they're up to something," the dark-haired vampire insisted.

"And I'm telling you that I believe you, but so what?" Buffy retorted in an angry whisper. "Whatever it is they've got up their sleeve, we can deal with it later. But if we don't act soon, odds are there won't _be_ a later for any of us!"

Yet, a stubborn Angel refused to concede. "If you want to put your friends and family at Wolfram & Hart's mercy, then fine, maybe you can live with the consequences. But I'm not letting these bastards within a hundred feet of my son, my crew or anyone else I care about."

"Angel—" the Slayer began to protest.

"End of discussion, Buffy," the ensouled vampire folded his arms, a tone of finality in his voice. "My hotel, my rules. She's leaving."

Buffy's jaw dropped down as she gaped at him, unable to believe that Angel had just stooped to pulling the 'Home Field Advantage' card on her. For one moment, the Slayer was tempted to send him flying ten feet into the air with a hard right hook in order to _force _the vampire to see things her way...

But then the memory of D'hoffryn taunting her about how Slayers always thought they could solve all their problems with violence surfaced in Buffy's mind. Besides, deep down, she knew that no matter how much she disagreed with Angel, she had no choice but to respect his wishes. The petite blonde could only hope that the offer would still stand when the battle shifted to Sunnydale, so she could…

Just then, Buffy caught sight of Lilah curiously staring at Dawn, who seemed uncomfortable under the dead lawyer's scrutinizing gaze.

"Well, look at you," Lilah noted with a hint of approval. "Such a pretty green light, all dressed up in that _cute_ little human package. Those monks did a pretty good job on you. It'd be easy for anyone to think you were real."

Dawn's eyes widened slightly, a feeling of insecurity taking hold of her. "I _am_ real," she said in a small, yet defensive voice.

Lilah's look was smug, knowing and cruel all at once. "Of course you are."

"That's **_IT_**! I've had more than enough of you, _lawyer_," a furious Connor spat out the description like an insult as he stepped in front of his girlfriend. "You think any of these people could stop me if I decided to tear you apart, right here, right now? No, better question—you think they'd _want_ to stop me?"

_Definitely not. Oughta_ _punch her right in her stupid face!_ an outraged Buffy thought as she stalked forward, Angel not far behind.

"Thanks for the offer, Dead Girl, but looks like we're going to have to pass," Buffy bit out with a dry smile. "Still, thanks for the pretty crystal. We'll be sure to put it to good use."

At that, Angel grabbed Lilah's arm hard, shoving her towards the door. "Goodbye, Lilah. And for your sake, you better hope we don't meet again."

"Not so fast, Dark Avenger," Lilah said as she squirmed in his grip. "You might not like it, but you need our help!"

"Does he?" Lindsey finally spoke up, looking rather amused at his former colleague being hustled towards the front doors like a hooker who had outstayed her welcome at a sleazy hotel. "For some reason, Lilah, I don't think so. Not _your _help, anyway."

"For once, Lindsey's got a point—I don't need your kind of poisoned support, Lilah," Angel nodded, his eyes dark and righteous. "I'll never need people like you or Wolfram & Hart. Because you're not part of the cure; you're part of the disease. Whatever's coming isn't going to be pretty, it's not going to be easy…and we may not survive it, but if we fail, it'll be on _our_ terms, not yours. Your side may be fighting for survival, but us? We fight for a _reason_. A purpose. And that purpose is to protect the innocent. Whatever the cost to ourselves. That's who we are, and it's what we do. But I wouldn't expect you to understand that, Lilah. You're not capable of it. So, that being said, and I mean this quite literally..._get the hell out of my house_."

His impassioned speech drew a nod of approval from Oz, Gunn, Wes and Connor, a quivering lip from Andrew—lost in an epic 'geekasm'—inspired smiles from Darla, Kate, Fred, Anya and Dawn, and a look of respect from Giles.

And Buffy? Despite her previous annoyance with Angel, she had to fight not to swoon like a dreamy-eyed schoolgirl at just how incredibly sexy the dark-clad hero looked to her right now. _Sigh…_

Even Lilah, annoyed as she was, couldn't help but think that Angel was pretty hot at the moment.

Still, she had a job to do, so the attorney said, "Nice speech, hero, but the bottom line is this: you're going to need us. And soon. Because without help, all your reasons and shiny purpose? They're getting blown to Kingdom Come once the Awakening happens. So, when you get your head out of your purpose?"

She held up a business card, with a number scrawled on the back, and tucked it into Angel's front shirt pocket, the slow manner through which she did so making Buffy's fists curl in possessive knots. "Give me a call."

Just as she was about to saunter out, Lilah threw one last parting look at Wesley, his eyes still stony as he regarded her.

A smile, somehow both soft and hard at the same time, crossed her face. "Pleasant dreams, lover."

And with that, Lilah Morgan walked out into the pouring rain, closing the hotel's front doors behind her, leaving almost as sudden and unexpectedly as she'd appeared.

Moments after Lilah had left the building, leaving the white hats to deal with the universe-sized grenade she had just thrown into their laps, Willow decided to speak up.

"Y'know, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I…_really_ didn't like her," the redheaded witch said with a shake of her head.

"I'll second that," Buffy muttered with a scowl at the door, trying to make sure that dead woman truly was gone.

"I'll third it, then," Dawn said, rubbing her arms self-consciously. Those few brief words with Lilah had bothered her more than a little, as her true origin was still something that made her uncomfortable; it was a reminder that she wasn't really human.

Sensing her discomfort, Connor clutched her hand firmly. "Don't let her get inside your head, Dawn. Lilah's an evil bitch, in case you couldn't tell—"

"Language, Connor," Darla scolded him gently. Then she offered a wry smile. "Even though…you're absolutely right about that."

The two teens couldn't help but to laugh a little at that, despite the gravity of the situation.

"Bitch or not, our problems just got worse," Angel mused in serious contemplation. "A lot worse."

"I'd have to concur with that, yes," Giles said, his face creased in worry. "I knew the First was planning something big after it openly began assaulting the Slayer line. But even in my wildest nightmares, I-I never imagined anything of this magnitude."

Buffy turned to her Watcher, her face quite worried. "So, I take it evil Ally McBeal wasn't kidding around with any of this? The First really could …destroy the whole universe?"

Giles sighed heavily. "Yes, I'm afraid so. The Eye of Creation is, is…beyond our understanding, but if used as a weapon...it might be safe to say that this might be the most serious threat that we've ever encountered, worse even than Glory." He looked sadly at the young woman he loved like his own flesh and blood. "I'm sorry, Buffy, I really am, but it looks as if this task is largely going to fall to you. And Angel. We'll do what we can, and no doubt so will Faith and Spike—but ultimately, I'd say you're the only ones with the strength and skill needed to protect the Potentials, the world and all of reality against the coming darkness."

Annoyed, Willow immediately spoke up for her best friend. "Giles! Geez, would it kill you to try to sound a little less ominous? You're gonna give Buffy a coronary!"

For someone so young and beautiful, Buffy suddenly felt so old. So very old, and tired. Another year, another apocalypse. And this time, it was the Mother of All Apocalypses.

The big 'Humonga-Cowabunga-From-Down-Unda' wave that she had, deep down, always known was coming ever since she was Called at the tender young age of fifteen. Buffy wanted to look into the eyes of the man who was, for all intents and purposes, her father and tell him that she could handle it. She could handle it like she always did.

But the evil on the horizon was just so large. And for all of her great strength, she was only one girl. One woman, standing alone trying to fight the ocean back with a broom. One Slayer...One Girl in All the World.

Alone.

_Damn it! Where the hell is Faith right now? _Buffy thought to herself in sudden fury. _We need her, and she's off having fun somewhere with Spike? God, I hate being the responsible one..._

As if sensing Buffy's thoughts, and the loneliness that came with such responsibility, a strong, firm hand slipped into hers…a hand that belonged to Angel.

The young woman couldn't help but to gaze at the ensouled vampire with a sense of minor awe. His presence seemed almost larger than life to her, as his eyes softened, the small half-smile that had always made her knees weak slowly spreading across his face.

Angel's voice was a soft, yet fervent promise. "You won't be alone. I'll be there with you. Shoulder to shoulder. I'm yours. And we're gonna kick that thing's ass. Together."

Hope filled her heart at that word. _Together_.

Yes, Buffy realized, as a smile found its way onto her face, she could do this. She was not alone.

Because Angel was here.

She couldn't do this alone, but together, the two of them, they could move mountains, part the oceans and turn back even the mightiest wind. Together, they were powerful beyond the sum of their strengths. And together, there was nothing that they couldn't do.

Together, they were going to kick the First Evil's ass so hard that it would never forget the names Buffy Summers and Angel.

Dawn couldn't help but to smile as she saw the interaction between her sister and Angel. She had loved Angel like a brother, and she wasn't blind to how different, how _alive_ Buffy was whenever he was around.

After all, all the other men she'd had feelings for? Both Owen Thurman and Scott Hope had been a mistake. Parker Abrams had been an even bigger one. Riley had tried, but he'd never even come close to being what Buffy needed. And Dawn didn't even want to think about how badly that thing between Buffy and Spike had ended; her sister had practically been a basket case all of last year, even if the last six months had borne witness to a drastic improvement in relations between them, ever since Spike had acquired his soul.

No, as far as Dawn was concerned watching her big sis and the Slayer's first love here and now, only Angel had ever brought out the real Buffy; the happy Buffy that she had always admired and envied. It was just like she'd told Vi and the others yesterday…they would be alright.

Because Angel and Buffy were here. And they would _make_ things alright. They would save the day again, like they always did.

Kate shook her head in disgust. "Leave it to Lilah Morgan to sneak in at the last minute during a bad situation and make it worse."

Lorne eyed her curiously. "Hmm, 'bout that…if your aura got any hotter while she was here, you could've caused a meltdown, lemon drop. There's some kinda story between you two?"

"And how," Kate muttered bitterly, recalling her early days with the LAPD. "If I had a dime for every scumbag perp I busted that she managed to put back on the streets, I'd have retired to Florida by now. It was worse in court; seeing that arrogant little smirk on that bitch's face every time the judge threw out a case I'd worked on, it just pissed me the hell off."

Lindsey smiled wryly. "That sounds like Lilah, all right. Woman wouldn't know how to win gracefully if her life depended on it. Not like that matters now, though, does it?"

Ignoring Lindsey on purpose, Kate continued, "So, for a while there, I made it my mission to put together an airtight case every time I booked one of that firm's dirtbag clients." She managed a smile. "Made it all the more worthwhile when I could toss that smirk right back at her, those few times the assistant D.A. did send some creep of hers up the river."

Oddly, no one saw the morose and even broodier-than-normal look on Wesley's rugged, tired face…no one, that is, save Darla.

"Look, I hate to break up this little trip down Memory Lane and all, but don't you guys think we should get back on track? Namely, the Highway to Hell that the First is putting all of reality on in the next three weeks?" Anya interjected. It never ceased to amaze her how, even with the world falling down around them, these people could still find a way to get so wrapped up in their own personal crap that they ignored the big picture.

"Good point," Buffy relented. Her gaze, now hard and serious, flitted back to Whistler. "So is there anything else we need to know that you're keeping silent about, Whistler? Or am I going to have to break you open like a piñata to get the rest of the toy surprises out?"

Whistler held up his hands in defense as he took a step back. "Easy there, warrior princess, I'm pretty sure that's it. But, just to be sure, I'll check with the Conduit ASAP. Maybe there's a little extra something that we can still use."

"If there is, get it fast," Angel told him gravely. "Now that the First is stepping up its game, we're going to need all the help that we can get."

"Then maybe you should reconsider about Wolfram & Hart's offer," Gunn suggested with a shrug. "If Big Evil's really going to war, we're going to need some more bodies to throw at this thing; even it's the Little Evil's cannon fodder."

The vampire's eyes grew hard. "Out of the question."

"Okay, fine, I'm just saying—"

"What, Gunn, what are you saying?" Angel interrupted challengingly. "That we should hook up with the same bastards who've tried to kill us all repeatedly, who went after my son, and who are responsible for a good chunk of all the evil in this city? Who want to use me to start their own personal apocalypse? Forget it. No chance in hell."

"Kinda funny you should put it like that," Gunn testily retorted, not backing down an inch. "'Cuz we might have the exact same chance of surviving this 'Wakey-Wakey' apocalypse thing without backup. Only you can't see that, because you've got your head up your—"

"Charles, c'mon," Fred cut him off, not liking where this conversation was headed.

"You can't fight evil by joining up with evil," Angel said angrily. "Nearly three centuries of experience talking here. If you lie down in a viper nest, guess what? You're going to get snake-bit. And I don't feel like getting their fangs stuck in my ass when we're fighting for the survival of the universe! For all we know, the Senior Partners are angling for a chance to use the Eye for their own purposes, have you thought about that?"

"Yeah, but you obviously don't give a damn 'bout my opinion—"

"_Guys_!" Buffy shouted loudly, eager to defuse another alpha male versus alpha male powder keg. At this point in the game, they needed to be on the same page, not at each other's throats.

"Look, it doesn't matter. Lawyer Lady's gone now, and she's left us her card in case of emergency. So let's just focus on what we have and what we know right now, and if we _absolutely _have to, we can play that card later. But we have to get in sync. All of us. We're a team now. And the only way this is going to work is if we're all in it together."

Her words seemed to have their desired effect on Gunn and Angel, each of whom reluctantly backed down, each man nodding slightly to the other in a silent apology.

Little did Buffy know, but this was relatively commonplace around Angel Investigations. Gunn was more often than not at odds with Angel about many things, the outspoken vampire hunter having been used to getting his own way while leading his crew, while Angel didn't like it when people openly questioned his decisions, especially if they worked for him. The influence of Angelus was suppressed, but never entirely absent from his psyche as the vampire demon was always there, just below the surface.

But, while their debates could get heated, things would go back to normal right afterwards between the two males. Because deep down, both hunter and vampire respected each other. And while Gunn would never admit it…he really did think of Angel as a close friend.

However, as he watched this dynamic between two men he'd once considered close to him as brothers, combined with the ache of a heart long broken caused by the reemergence of a dead woman he'd cared for deeply, Wesley was certain of one thing...he had to get out of here.

"Alright, then," Wesley said abruptly, as he turned towards the stairs. "It's late; long past midnight, as a matter of fact. I suggest we all get some sleep, and talk strategy in the morning."

Despite the toneless wording, Angel could feel, could sense the pain that Wes was in, and he couldn't help but to feel sorry for him. Seeing Lilah again couldn't have been easy for the ex-Watcher, not after he'd personally decapitated her down in the basement.

Angel's words made Wesley stop at the foot of the stairs. "Wes, look…I know that this thing with Lilah must've been—"

"Don't bother," Wesley's cool, yet acidic British tone mercilessly cut him off.

Angel was surprised. "What?"

"Spare me the empty consolations. Stop trying to act like everything is fine between us. And please, cease and desist with the empty overtures of friendship," Wesley's voice became harder. A beat, before his voice lowered to a softer, more vulnerable tone. "There's no point in pretending you people actually care any longer."

The members of Team Angel turned to each other in surprise at those words, unable to believe that Wesley…Wes…their longtime friend, had just said that.

"Wesley, we _do_ care," Fred protested, hurt.

"English, come on, man," Gunn insisted. Despite everything that had happened between the two men since last year, deep down, Gunn missed his former friend. The man had taken a bullet for him once; and that wasn't the kind of thing a man like Gunn would ever forget.

"What's past is past, Wes," Lorne implored in his gentle timbre. "You don't see _me_ holding a grudge over that night everything went to hell with the little nipper over there, do ya?"

Connor felt a little self-conscious as everyone turned to stare at him, as well as feeling Dawn clutch his hand a little tighter. The young man saw his mother looking at him and so said to Wesley, "What he said, I guess."

Despite the swell of emotion that threatened to choke him, the longing in his heart to fit back into the place that had felt so right to him for so long, Wesley refused to bend.

He wasn't the one who'd turned his back on them; no, _they _had all turned their backs on _him_. And now, of all times, they wanted to kiss and make up?

_Too late_, Wesley thought to himself acidly. _Too little and far, far, too late_.

"This isn't about holding grudges; this is about all of you needing to be clear about something," Wesley coldly replied, his back still turned to them, almost symbolically. "And that is, I'm here for one reason only; to prevent the onset of Armageddon. I am not your friend. I am not your comrade-in-arms. And Angel, I am most definitely not your _flunky_ any longer. So kindly keep out of my personal life, just as I'll be doing my damndest to keep out of yours once all this is over."

When Wes turned back to face the group, his eyes were cold. Distant. Emotionless. "Every single one of you."

Fred couldn't help but to shiver as the British man's eyes briefly met hers. She swallowed hard out of guilt, knowing that she, in particular, had delivered the cruelest words of all to Wes during the fallout after Connor's kidnapping. She couldn't help it at the time, though; she had trusted Wesley so much, and his perceived betrayal had hurt her deeply.

Granted, if she could have known that the result of said treatment would have been this angry, bitter man replacing the kind, sweet and polite friend that she had come to know since Pylea, Fred might not have done what she did. But it was too late to change what had happened now.

Wesley subsequently stalked his way up the stairs without another word, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.

Oz tried to diffuse the tension. "Well, that was…uncomfortable." Emphasis on 'tried.'

Fred bit her lip in sadness and shame. "My God…we really hurt him, didn't we?"

Lorne sighed. "Yeah, I'm afraid so, gum drop. We really did. His aura's got more grey around it than George Clooney's hairline."

Gunn sadly realized something. "We're never gonna get him back, are we?"

Whistler shrugged, but was careful about how his words sounded this time. "I wouldn't bet money on it. He's been on the brink for a while; all he needs is one good, hard shove in order to send him all the way down to Crazyville. Guy's hurtin', that's for certain."

Darla had witnessed enough, though. She could no longer bear to see such a good and…noble…man in such pain. It was torturing her soul to see Wes act like that.

"I'll go talk to him," she spoke up, surprising some of them. "Wesley needs someone not connected with the past right now."

Suddenly, Lindsey caught up with her as she was halfway to the stairs. "Darla...just hold on a minute."

"What?" she snapped, impatiently.

"Look, I know I'm not the most objective guy around concerning Quickdraw, but please, just hear me out," Lindsey said earnestly. "That man's angry, and he needs some time to cool off. You go up there and try to make nice with him now, and there's no telling what he might do. Right now, he's...dangerous."

"I'm not afraid of him," Darla replied, steadfast. "Wesley wouldn't hurt me, I'm sure of it."

"With his track record? We both know the odds are against it," Lindsey countered. His voice became softer, his eyes filled with concern. "Darla…please, don't do this."

Despite the brief flutter in her heart over the way he looked at her, Darla batted it aside, fixing her coldest glare on the ex-lawyer. "Take your hand off me right now, Lindsey, or get ready to lose it—again," she threatened the man, knowing full well that she had the power now to make good on such a threat.

Exhaling in defeat, and realizing that there was no way that he could convince her not to do this, Lindsey let go of her arm. Without another word Darla quickly went up the stairs, disappearing towards the next floor, leaving Lindsey hurt, somewhat angry, and more than a little jealous.

Angel looked down, realizing that his anger—not to mention, attempted murder of the British man—had driven one of his friends behind an impenetrable wall of isolation and pain. He, of all people, knew how that felt. "I messed up. Damn it…I should've tried harder to mend fences between us. Yeah, I was pissed with him over what happened to Connor, but if I knew that he'd become so—"

"Angel," Buffy cut him off gently. Her eyes were filled with sympathy. "Don't go there, it never helps. From what you told me, there's a lot of blame to go around with this one. But Wes'll come around, you'll see. Just give him some time. And no matter how hard he pushes you away, you've got to fight to pull him back in."

Upon hearing her words, Angel couldn't help but to think that there was some kind of double meaning to them. Like maybe Wesley's strained relationship wasn't the only thing she was talking about. But that was a nut to crack another time.

"I hope you're right," was all that Angel could manage to say, looking up the stairs where his (former) friend and Darla had disappeared.

He then caught Connor's eye, who was likewise looking troubled. Whether it was because the male teen thought that this bad business with Wyndam-Pryce was inadvertently his fault, or because his mother was showing interest in a man other than his father, Angel couldn't guess.

Precisely at that moment, Wood came up from the basement, and Kennedy came down the stairs…followed at least thirty of the Potential Slayers, apart from Molly, Vi and Amanda—who were still up in their rooms awaiting word from Dawn and the others.

Alert, Buffy was surprised by the sudden arrival of the Potentials into this picture. She was planning on briefing them sometime the next day on the current situation; but certainly not now, not when she was only just getting a handle on this colossal wave of trouble that had hit their team.

"Uh…what's going on?" a confused Buffy asked the new arrivals. "Lights out was at eleven, I thought you guys knew that. We have a lot of things to go over in the morning."

"Oh, you're damn right we have a lot of things to go over, _boss_," Kennedy replied with a snappy tone that instantly made Buffy's hackles rise.

Ever since this loudmouth Potential had arrived in Sunnydale, Buffy had been holding back—barely—the urge to knock her down a peg or three with a good five-fingered knuckle sandwich. It was only because of Kennedy's relationship with Willow that she had yet to give in to that instinct.

Wood, notably, was displeased. "Kennedy, I thought we agreed to keep the others out of this for now?"

"You agreed; I didn't. My fellow Potentials all need to see this," Kennedy declared, almost righteously, as she disdainfully eyed her 'leader' and the 'hero' next to her. "They all need to see just how big of a hypocrite their 'protector' really is."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Hypocrite? Kennedy, what the hell are you going on about?"

Paying no attention to Buffy, Wood took a few steps forward until he was barely three feet in front of Angel. The vampire was eying Buffy's boss at Sunnydale High School in curiosity…although something in him was also on guard.

"Angel, right?" Wood started, his tone just a little too casual for Angel's liking. "I have this theory that I was hoping you could help me test."

Glancing at Buffy, who was just as confused—and wary—as he was, Angel returned his guarded gaze to Wood. "Okay, what theory? And what kind of test?"

"It's nothing fancy," Wood said, his hand slipping into his pocket. "Just a simple game of…catch."

In one quick motion, the Watcher-trained demon hunter tossed a small object, a simple gold cross, towards Angel. And, his well-attuned supernatural reflexes reacting automatically, Angel couldn't help but to reach out and catch it before his brain realized the danger.

As his hand closed around the cross, the sound of sizzling flesh could be heard as the holy icon began painfully burning into Angel's skin. And the pain caused him to involuntarily change…

…into his true vampire face.

As the Scoobies and the Fang Gang watched in shocked surprise, Angel looking up in confusion and most of the Potentials screaming in sheer terror—not Kennedy, though, who just smiled in triumph as she began drawing out a crossbow concealed behind her back—Buffy gaped in horror as she realized the gravity of what had just happened.

Wood's eyes were filled with clear and deadly purpose. And uncontainable hate. "Well, what do you know? Looks like you failed the test…vampire."

A stake hidden under his sleeve slid into his hand. "Can you guess what happens next?"

And with the deadly intent of a predator pouncing upon its prey, he plunged the deadly stake forward; straight towards Angel's heart…

* * *

TBC…

* * *

**Next: As Wesley and Darla grow closer, what will the fallout be from Robin's attack on Angel? Is this the end of our favorite broody Dark Avenger? Or do Robin and Kennedy have some 'splaining to do?**

**And just what will happen when Spike and Faith return to the Hyperion? Well…that would be telling, wouldn't it? (Insert evil laugh here)**

* * *

Well, that's all for now, folks. By the way, I just started a new Facebook page under my Jean-theGuardian screenname, so if you can, Like me on Facebook. And remember to post a Review and/or Private IM me to chat (c'mon guys, show me love!) go back and read the previous chapters of Bring Me To Life, and tune in next month for the 9-year anniversary chapter (I'll try not to make you guys wait another year for this to end, promise!)

And as always, remember…you wear the cheese; the cheese does not wear you!

Jean-theGuardian is out.

Peace!


	28. Part 26 Old Wounds

A/N: What up, peoples! Yes, I am back, and ready to rock! Welcome everyone to the 9-year anniversary of Bring Me To Life! As some of you who read the first chapter know, I started this story during a really tense time in my life, which coincided with the end of BtVS and the 4th Season of Angel. I never actually intended for it to take this long, but, well, I didn't have a laptop and the lack of problems I had then, either. But whatever, this puppy's still rolling and gearing inevitably towards an end (promise!)

Special shout out to my awesome beta, the Invincible Starway Man (PS, read his latest fic, Shattered, right here on FF dot net; you'll love it!) for his help. Theo, may the Force be with you! And thanks to everyone who reviewed, including : valforeverblue, teamtiva, Jason Barnett (welcome back! Haven't seen you since 2003!) wingster 55, neoearthqueen30, Geoff, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, Angellufy, spyagent001, Fools and Worthless Liars, Alkeni, DarkVizard 447, xxdawnbreakerxx, EmeraldWings90, David Fishwick, ShayleeAlf, and of course, my good buddy Ashes at Midnight. You guys Rock!

The following lyrics within the chapter belong to Celine Dion (Nothing's Broken But My Heart) and Lady Antebellum (Just a Kiss), and are not owned/affiliated with the author in any way.

Well, enough of all that—ladies and gentleman, grab your soda, have a pizza and grab a comfy chair, because without further ado, I present to you, still going strong after 9 years, the latest chapter of…

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**Bring Me To Life - A Buffy The Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 26 - Old Wounds**

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**Hyperion Hotel - Lobby**

**Now**

* * *

Robin Wood was no amateur; he had been aware of the 'real world' for a long time.

When he was twelve, the Watcher named Bernard Crowley had begun training him in the art of demon-hunting and fighting vampires, just as he had taught Robin's late mother, the Slayer named Nikki Wood, before her death at Spike's hands.

And ever since Robin had turned seventeen, he had actively hunted vampires, obsessively perusing the obituaries section of newspapers for any signs of vampire-related deaths, then meeting newly-sired bloodsuckers in the graveyards head-on in battle. At last count, he had dusted 296 vampires over the last thirteen years of his life - a number that would have earned a nod of respect from far more accomplished vampire hunters, such as the deceased Daniel Holtz.

If there was one thing Robin Wood knew how to do, it was how to kill vampires. He did it well. And he enjoyed it.

And yet, there was no joy or excitement of an adrenaline-fueled battle that coursed through him as Wood thrust his stake at the vampire who had indirectly facilitated (sire of the sire of the vamp whodunit) the death of his mother, all those years ago.

No, if Robin had to describe the feeling that drove him now, it would be something akin to…vindication.

For himself. For his mother. For his life.

Yet at the very last moment, a mere millimeter from the torn silk shirt covering Angel's chest, the vindication that was his stake stopped just short of penetrating the undead flesh above the heart…on account of the vise-like grip unexpectedly clamped around his wrist.

A grip that belonged to a steely-eyed Buffy Summers.

Her hand had shot out with inhuman swiftness that only the Chosen One was capable of, moving almost before her mind could comprehend her action.

Surprised by the move, Robin stared in combined bewilderment and anger at the tiny blonde eying him with a steadfast and resolved look of determination. _What the fuck is she..._

And then, the click-clack sound of a crossbow being fired—a noise Angel was thoroughly familiar with—registered in the ensouled vampire's supernaturally-enhanced ears.

With reckless abandon, Kennedy fired the crossbow down from her spot on the stairs towards the three fighters in the lobby, aiming for the vampire's heart now that Robin's attack had been thwarted. _See you in hell, vampy..._

The trouble was, Buffy's quick movement had taken her right in the path of the arrow leading to Angel's chest…and with her back turned, the blonde Slayer could not see the arrow zipping with lethal speed towards her unprotected back…

With an invisible blur of movement, Angel managed to shove both Buffy and Wood out of harm's way with his left hand…while catching the deadly arrow with his right, the wooden projectile stopped a mere three inches from his chest.

Immediately pissed off, Kennedy let out a determined yell as she sprinted down the stairs, a stake now in her right hand as she charged towards Angel.

Trying to take advantage of the distraction, Wood pushed Buffy aside and again lunged, stake in hand, towards the dark-haired vampire. But the blonde Slayer, recovering quickly as she'd been trained rigorously to do over the last eight years, retaliated with a quick side-kick that slammed Robin against a nearby wall.

There was no cognition, just instinct as the Slayer attacked her boss at Sunnydale High and kept him at bay—while the Potentials either stared in shock, or continued to scream at the sight of Angel's vampire face.

While vaguely aware of Kennedy's pending attack on Angel, Buffy was more than sure that her boyfriend (former) could handle an inexperienced brat like Kennedy. So, she opted not to pay the angry Potential any mind and focus on the bigger threat—Robin.

"Listen," Buffy tried to reason with the black man calmly. "I don't know what you think you're doing, Robin, but I gotta tell you—you _really_ don't want to do this!"

"Get out of my way, Buffy," Robin responded, his voice filled with a menacing kind of calm as he got up off the floor.

She responded in kind. "Sorry. Not gonna happen."

Almost immediately, Robin lashed out at Buffy, his stake slashing wildly in the air. Against a normal human, or even a vampire, Robin's attack would have had great chance for success. Against a Slayer, however, he was like a child having a temper tantrum in front of an unamused adult.

In a flash, Buffy caught Robin's wrist, squeezing it so hard that he dropped the stake down to the floor. With two hard, successive kicks to the abdomen, Buffy stunned the high school principal long enough to grab him by the shirt and shove Robin hard against the wall. And then, grabbing a large fistful of his clothes, lift him six inches off the ground in an impressive display of supernatural strength.

_Oh, God… this is __**so**__ not__gonna do my chances for keeping my job any good at all, is it? _Buffy sudden realized as Robin dangled helplessly in her grip...

...while Kennedy ran with all possible speed at Angel. But even at her top speed, to the much faster vampire in question, it was as if she was moving in slow motion.

There were seven, maybe eight different ways Angel counted offhand through which he could easily dispatch her, and at least three of them were lethal. Angel even mused briefly at how the young woman's lack of training showed in opting to meet a much taller and stronger opponent head-on, rather than initiating another projectile attack; very foolish.

Seeing no signs of her stopping as Kennedy barreled towards him, Angel had to stifle the urge to chuckle at how clumsy she looked compared to the more seasoned combatants he knew, like Buffy and Faith. Hell, even Cordy would have posed a more serious threat these days, after everything he'd taught her.

So, while Kennedy's confidence grew as she saw Angel standing there stiffly in the face of her imminent charge, she had no idea that she had already lost this battle.

"Dad..." Connor started to move forward, before Dawn's hand gripping his own drew the young man's gaze to hers…and communicating silently, the young man understood his girlfriend was telling him not to worry, that Angel would be fine.

Indeed, Angel merely waited until the last second…and then, with a move too swift to comprehend and too smooth to stop, he suddenly had Kennedy's arm pinned behind her back, twisting painfully so that she dropped the stake before he wrapped a powerful arm around her midriff and lifted her in the air.

As Kennedy thrashed in his grip, he twisted even harder on her arm, causing the girl to cry out in helpless pain. Still in vampire face, Angel growled, furious with her; the attack on him had been annoying enough, but the arrow from her carelessly fired crossbow would have hurt Buffy—perhaps worse—and for that, he would teach this upstart Slayer wannabe a lesson she would _never_ forget…

"_No_, Angel, _don't_!" shouted a female voice…a voice that belonged to Willow.

The redhead's eyes had gone black, and the ensouled vampire turned to witness Willow warning him not to do anything that he would ultimately regret. "Just…don't. Okay?" the witch commanded more than asked.

Oz quickly moved to Willow's side, watching her with as much fascination as everyone else in the lobby - the Potentials, as well as Lorne, Whistler, Lindsey, Kate, Gunn, Fred, Giles, Connor, Dawn, Andrew and Anya. Ignoring a stirring of jealous longing, which came from knowing that the woman he still loved was so concerned over another, Oz couldn't help but to understand Willow's actions as well.

After all, if it was Willow in Kennedy's position, he'd feel the exact same way.

Thanks to Willow's look, and the faces of surprise and shock from his son, friends and allies, as well as the rest of the Potentials, Angel relented, forcing himself to calm down as he shifted his features back into his handsome, yet scowling human visage.

"Let go of me!" Kennedy shouted furiously, struggling futilely in Angel's grasp.

"Sure, and then you can try to kill me again?" Angel asked with a slight snort. "On second thought, pass."

Throwing a brief look over her shoulder to make sure that Angel was okay and Kennedy was taken care of, Buffy returned her hard, glaring gaze to Robin. "Just so you know, I've had a really bad night. Like, somewhere in the top five on my 'Worst Night Ever' list. And it's only because I owe you for the job you gave me six months ago…and that, up 'til now, you've been pretty cool…that I'm going to give you one chance to explain why you and Little Red Maniac Hood over there shouldn't have to eat through a straw for a month. So, my advice? _Start talking_."

"Angel," Robin snorted bitterly, as he was still being held fast against the wall. "You told us that that was his name, right? And yet according to my information, it's _Angelus_."

Buffy's face went slack in surprise, a small shiver crawling up her spine at the mention of her ex-lover's diabolical alter ego. Across from her, with Kennedy still firmly trapped in his grip, Angel's eyes widened in surprise as well.

The night before, while searching for Connor, Buffy had confessed to Angel that she had intentionally kept the truth about the undead detective's less-than-savory past a secret to part of her group; specifically Robin, Andrew, and the Potentials.

Aside from having very little time for detailed explanations, it was largely because the Slayer knew that they just wouldn't be able to trust someone that was once the deadliest, most ruthless vampire on the planet, or tell the difference between the noble Angel and the cruel, vicious Angelus.

The good Lord knew how, despite fighting at her side for seven years, Xander still couldn't do it. And Buffy knew she could never trust Andrew with that kind of secret. That kid had a bigger mouth on him than Angelina Jolie, and his penchant for fanboy story-telling just totally got on her nerves.

Besides, bigger picture scenario in terms of the end of the world; so, Buffy had figured that the less they knew, the fewer questions and distractions she'd have to deal with.

While Angel had disagreed with her rationale—knowing all too well from a century of experience how people reacted to that particular secret, once it inevitably came to light—he'd reluctantly agreed, if only to keep everyone on the same page while they dealt with this latest apocalyptic threat. 'Prioritize' was the name of the game at this point, after all. But he'd be a liar if Angel said that he hadn't seen this particular development coming.

Buffy swallowed, her strength ebbing. "How did you…?"

"Kennedy told me. Plus 'Vampyre: A Florigelium of the Undead, Volume 193'. That book contains information on _all _the members of the Order of Aurelius," Robin spat, his eyes filled with accusatory anger. "Teachers and books. Go figure."

Slowly, Buffy loosened her grip on Wood before she lowered him to the floor, the school principal batting her hands away brusquely as he created distance between them.

A heavy sigh escaped from Buffy's lips, knowing that things had gotten even more complicated. "Angel…let her go."

Not hesitating for a moment, Angel—already tired of Kennedy's annoying squirming and kicking—unceremoniously dropped the Potential to the floor, the young woman landing painfully on her tailbone.

As he caught sight of Kennedy's poisonous scowl, Angel, having had more than his fill of this girl for one night, issued her a cold warning. "Don't even think about it. I took it easy on you this time, for Willow's sake. But try that again, and I'll see to it that you won't be able to use that hand for a month. Maybe even longer."

Despite her indignant anger, the cold look in Angel's dark eyes gave Kennedy pause. In spite of her pride, deep down the Potential knew that Angel could have easily killed her just now. _Fucking undead bastard..._

Kennedy got up, and caught sight of Oz standing alongside Willow. Her fury only increasing at seeing the human mutt in such close proximity to her girlfriend, Kennedy was subsequently stunned to see Willow - whose eyes were now back to their normal color - glaring at her accusatorily. _What the hell is that about?_

Straightening his shirt in a huff, Wood likewise glared at Buffy. "You should have told me, Buffy. About your 'friend.' But instead, you lied to me—to all of us. Just like you did with Spike. For God's sake, did you really think that you could hide the truth from us forever?"

_Well, that's what I was shooting for, yeah_, was the thought that popped into Buffy's mind at first. Realizing that that response would not go over well, Buffy tried a more tactful approach. "Robin…look, I didn't lie to you; technically. I told you the truth..." She sighed. "Just…not all of it."

"Understatement much, oh Fearless Leader?" Kennedy snidely retorted, redirecting her anger towards Buffy. "Now, why don't you fill the rest of the girls in on everything you've conveniently left out until now? You know, how _this_ guy…" she gestured disdainfully at Angel. "…this big hero you said would help us, was, in reality, not only a vampire—but the worst vampire _ever_? That he was actually _Angelus_, the Scourge of Europe? Not to mention the fact that you _slept _with him?"

While some of the Potentials had blank faces, as that name meant nothing to them, the more well-read of them recoiled even further and gasped in fright at hearing the name 'Angelus'.

Angel's heart fell as he saw the terror in the eyes of those girls. Those who didn't already fear _what_ he was looked absolutely petrified now that they knew _who_ he was…or rather, who he used to be. It was the same thing he'd had to deal with for more than a century after he was cursed, but it never got any easier…knowing that he may look like a man, but he could never fit into the human world.

Forever an outcast. Forever alone.

Buffy's temper was dangerously close to snapping; this was _so_ not how she had planned to end this already horrible evening. Fighting to keep it together, she only offered Willow's girlfriend a terse, "You've got it all wrong, Kennedy. This isn't what you think it is—"

"Oh, so _now_ you care about my opinions?" Kennedy was on a roll, and she had no intention of stopping. "You want to know what I think? I think you're a complete fraud! I mean, you lied to Annabelle and Chloe when you said you'd keep them alive, you lied to us about why we came here, and you lied to everyone except your inner circle about who this _monster_ really is! So what else have you been lying to us about, huh?"

Buffy's vision was turning red, and she swore she could literally feel her blood boiling within her veins as she took in Kennedy's ranting and raving. The loss of Annabelle and Chloe, two young Potentials that she had tried to protect, still stung very much. Even though Buffy had learned long ago to accept that—for all her great power —she couldn't save everyone, it didn't make that kind of failure hurt any less.

And Kennedy's caustic reminder of those girls she failed to save was like having salt poured into a painful and bleeding wound.

"I mean, how can we sure that this chick's even who she says she is, any longer?" Kennedy directed her question to the Potentials. "How do we know that Buffy's not somehow connected to why the Potentials like us and their Watchers have been getting killed?"

She took several steps forward, pointing accusatorily at Buffy. "In fact, how can we be sure that she's not working _with_ the First? How do we know that she didn't set up Annabelle and Chloe to get picked off—one on the streets with only her word for how it happened, and the other conveniently dying in her own house? And now, she's brought us _here_, to the hotel where the most evil vampire in history _lives_? How do we know that Buffy isn't planning to feed us all to her undead boyfriend as a way to get in good with the First, so that she can—"

But Kennedy's sentence was viciously cut off as the hard knuckles of Buffy's fist smashed brutally into the right side of the teenage girl's cheek, sending her staggering backwards before she fell to the floor, dazed and bloody-mouthed.

Buffy was practically shaking in rage as the others looked on in shock. To her credit, Kennedy, shaking off the cobwebs faster than expected, growled in anger as she stood up and prepared to launch herself at Buffy in an all-out attack…

… only to cry out in confusion as she suddenly rose up off the floor, dangling up in the air as a black-haired and black-eyed Willow gestured at her in an almost offhand manner. Kennedy saw what she was doing and demanded, "What the hell—?"

"Kennedy? You really need to shut up. _Right now_," Willow commanded forcefully.

"_Damn_ _it, Willow, what are you_ _**doing**_?" Kennedy yelled, as she rose higher and higher towards the ceiling before being turned upside down.

"What am I doing? What did you think _you _were doing? I told you to keep what I told you about Angel a secret!" Willow replied in a hollow, empty voice distorted by her magickal power. Her once-melodious voice was now a frightening, echoing howl. "_I trusted you with one of my secrets__**, **__**and this is what you did with it**__**?**__" _

The witch subsequently made a slashing motion, and Kennedy fell like a stone, her face smashing against the hard floor of the hotel lobby, and giving the young woman one hell of a bloody lip.

The gasps from both the white hats and Potentials could have sucked the air right out of the room.

Wide-eyed, the trembling Kennedy stared up at Willow; who was staring down at the girl with an expression that chilled even Angel's already cold blood. The last time he had seen that kind of look was on Buffy roughly three years ago; when he had, barely, defended an unstable Faith against her sister Slayer.

But unlike with Faith, he had no reason at all to step in this time. Kennedy had overstepped her bounds, in his mind, by accusing Buffy of being a liar; and worse, a murderer, even though the Potential likely knew how Buffy had risked life and limb to protect these girls.

Oz was stunned, his lycanthropic senses allowing him to actually feel the immense power and rage emanating off of Willow. He had heard the stories from Whistler about how powerful she had become - but up until now, he couldn't truly believe that his sweet, helpful Willow could be capable of such power. Or such rage.

Oz had no trouble believing it now, though.

"Willow," he said in his calm, steady voice. "Take it easy. Breathe…just relax. It's okay. It's okay."

It took her several moments before Willow's dark roots faded back into their natural fiery red color, the young witch sagging somewhat as Oz gently put his arm around her upper torso, allowing her to lean on him as he supported her.

Still shaken by how far she had nearly gone, Willow quietly mumbled, "Oh God…what did I…Oz, I almost…"

"Shh, take it easy, you're fine," Oz whispered quietly, comfortingly. "It's fine."

Lorne could see the anger rolling off Buffy's aura in waves, and he listened to her words being spat out, syllable by syllable. "Say that again, Kennedy, and I'll see to it that you'll never eat solid food for the rest of your days."

Turning her attention back to the Slayer, Kennedy spat out the blood in her mouth and wiped her lips clean. "What? You can't take the truth, Buffy?"

Her fists still balled at her sides, Buffy mentally counted backwards to rein in her temper. Using her fists wasn't going to win over the girls or Robin; using her brain, however, just might work in this case.

"A little tip, Kennedy—you're young. And very, very stupid," Buffy replied crisply. "So try not to make assumptions on what you _think_ you know, compared to what I _actually _know. It's that kind of game plan that's going to get you put in the morgue. Or get the crap kicked out of you, whichever."

Turning to address the Potentials and Robin, she began to plead her case. "Look…yes, it's true. I haven't been entirely forthcoming with you. All of you. All I can say in my defense is that I didn't have time for detailed explanations, and I had my reasons for doing what I did. I meant well with them, but that doesn't make what I did any less wrong. I should have been more honest with you. I wasn't, and I apologize for it."

Taking a deep breath, Buffy continued, "As you saw, Angel is a vampire. And judging from those of you who've read that Slayer handbook that _someone_ decided would be of no use in my case…" She turned to throw a small smirk at Giles, who had the good grace to flush in embarrassment.

"…obviously, you know the stories about who Angel used to be. And the fact is… they're all true. He was Angelus. Key word here, being _was_. Past tense. The man you see here now is _not_ the Scourge of Europe. He has a soul. Like Spike does."

"And that's supposed to make us trust him?" Kennedy demanded, feeling the tide of public opinion beginning to turn from the looks on the SiTs' faces.

"No, what should make you trust him is the fact that, even though you tried to kill him, Angel didn't hurt you…simply because Willow asked him not to," Buffy said with a straight face, even if she privately relished the look on the bleeding brunette's face. "He feels the weight of all of Angelus's crimes every day, and it haunts him in ways that I hope none of you will ever have to understand. And I know this, because I've _seen_ it. I've seen his remorse and his torment over what Angelus did, being forced to remember it all as if he did it himself. But more importantly than that, I've seen his struggle to atone, and make amends for what his demon did. Angel's saved more lives in the last eight years than you could imagine. Even if you trust nothing else I ever say to you, trust me when I say this—he's on our side."

"It's true," Angel interjected at this point. He offered the Potentials an apologetic look. "I've done things that I'll never be able to apologize enough for. Terrible things. Things that would give all of you just cause to hate me. But I was different then, and I...look, I don't know any of you, and none of you know me. But I promise you this…if I have to, I'll lay down my life for any one of you if it means keeping you alive."

Buffy threw him a grateful look, her heart practically melting as she took in his soft-spoken, heroic words. It was at that moment that she realized how foolish she was in thinking that any of the men who came after Angel could ever compare to him. Shaking off that thought, Buffy returned to the issue at hand as she talked to the Potentials. "Believe me, if I thought Angel would harm any of you—"

"I have a question. What about those vampires he, or Angelus, or whatever you want to call him, sired?" Robin cut in coldly. "Where do they fit into this 'champion of the people' thing you're trying to sell us?"

Buffy paled as she realized what her boss was talking about, while Angel could only stare in confusion. Angelus had sired only a handful of vampires in his time, and most of them were dead now—Margaret Landry, Sarah Holtz, and Penn, among them. But Drusilla…_was still alive..._

"Robin, wait…" Buffy pleaded to no avail.

"No, I think your 'friend' needs to hear this," Robin icily cut her off, his eyes smoldering with a toxic loathing as he sized up Angel. "He needs to hear all about how my mother, a Slayer…someone who was a _real _hero…someone who gave her life, every waking second of her existence to protect others— how she ended up dead in a New York subway car twenty-six years ago."

In his mind Robin could still see the evil smile on Spike's wet face in that rainy Central Park bike path as he pummeled his mother, the brave young fighter desperately trying to keep him at bay. "Do you know what I'm talking about, vampire?"

As the detective took in the man's last name—Wood—his race, and the tale of his mother's demise, recognition, and a growing sense of dread, slowly began to form on Angel's face. "Nikki Wood. I heard about her, decades ago. According to rumor, she was Spike's second Slayer kill," Angel frowned, ignoring the gasps from some of the Potentials.

"Yeah. My mother died because of the bleach-haired piece of garbage that your crazy Childe Drusilla created back in 1880." The anger in Robin's voice was palpable. "Your bastard grandson even kept her coat afterwards. Like it was a damn _trophy_ or something!"

The surprise and regret that appeared on Angel's face was plain for all to see. While he'd been living on the streets after that horrific diner shooting had forced him to cut off ties with the human world, Angel had heard rumors here and there about how William the Bloody had bagged himself another Slayer during 1977. It had never occurred to him that whoever that young woman was, she could have had a family.

And now, standing here in front of him, was this angry man filled with bitterness and hate that the murder of a loved one would cause…because of Spike.

Because it was Angelus that had turned him onto the idea of hunting Slayers as a status symbol. Because it was his own offspring, Drusilla, that had created him. Because it was Angelus that had helped mold and groom an otherwise clumsy vampire named William into the vicious, remorseless, animalistic killer that was Spike-slash-William the Bloody.

_Another life I helped to destroy, _Angel thought, as guilt flooded him. _It seems like every time the tab for my sins comes, others end up paying the price._

The vampire struggled for the words as his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "I didn't know, I…God, I…I'm so sorry…"

"Don't you apologize to me," Robin shot back, his voice nearly choked with emotion. "That won't bring her back. And it won't change the fact that Spike got away with her murder, thanks to Buffy saying she'd let him kill me if I ever tried to stake him again. My mother's dead because of what _you_ started, vampire. What you and your demented offspring helped create."

"_Robin_," Buffy interrupted, her voice a little more angry than she had intended, the petite blonde torn between being sympathetic to Robin's loss and defending both Angel and her actions. She couldn't help noticing some of the Potentials, who had barely begun to relax, were now looking at her with combined fear and anger. _Damn it, I don't need this right now..._

"Look, I told you before, I understand your pain. I know from personal experience what it's like to lose your mother. It's a wound that never really heals…but that's all in the past now.

"Look, we just had us a visit from a different branch of Team Evil, and apparently our problems are a lot worse than we ever dreamed. End-of-the-entire-universe worse," Buffy's voice hardened in resolve. "And while I'm sorry about what you're going through, you have to understand this—if you make another move on Angel or Spike or any of my allies, they won't kill you. Because _I_ will. Without hesitation. This isn't about grudges or revenge. It's about saving these girls, and saving the world. Saving…everything."

"_The_ _mission is what matters_," Robin parroted Buffy's words back from when she'd found him, after his attempt to dust Spike in that garage. "Nice speech. But you withheld information that I had a right to know—that we _all _had a right to know—before you dragged us here to this damned hotel."

A beat. "You lied to us. To _me_. You used your own agenda as an excuse to pull the wool over my eyes. And you want to protect your vampire lovers so much, that you're actually willing to _murder_ me now? You're a disgrace to every Slayer that's come before you, and the two who came after you. All of your predecessors would spit on you, Buffy, if they were here right now. Including and especially my mother."

Robin felt used at this moment. He could understand how, from Buffy's point of view, he would make a useful ally. He could fight, and fight well. He had connections, and access to large-scale transportation. He could offer her a day job so that she could pay the bills, and be able to do her _real_ job after hours. His experience with a Slayer mom and a Watcher foster father was invaluable, given the current situation where training the Potentials was needed.

But it was for exactly those reasons that he'd expected Buffy to be honest with him, not to lie to him—and certainly not to make death threats against him.

Buffy's eyes briefly widened, not expecting to hear that sort of vitriol hurled her way. Even though, deep down, she suspected that she had definitely screwed up where Robin was concerned.

Because she _had_ lied to someone who was supposed to be an ally, lied by omission if nothing else. And while strategically her decision was almost certainly the correct one, given the current multiverse-ending situation…in the moral batter's box, Buffy knew she was coming up with the big goose egg.

Having had enough, Wood let out a disgusted snort as he headed for the hotel's main doors. "I'm outta here."

"Robin, wait!" Buffy called out as she reached him at the doorsteps. "Look, you're pissed, and I'll admit you have a right to be. I'm sorry…and I'll keep you in the loop on everything from hereon out, I promise. But, like I said, the First is planning something even bigger than we ever imagined, and we need all the help we can get. These girls need you." She gestured back to the young and confused Potentials. "_We_ need you."

While Buffy's words were enough to give him some pause, ultimately, Robin ended up shaking his head. "I'm heading back to Sunnydale. I still have a job to do at the high school…but you don't. Consider yourself officially fired. Have Mr. Giles or that other Slayer, Faith, contact me for anything related to the apocalypse—but quite honestly, Buffy, I don't ever want to see your face again. Because if I do, don't be too sure which of us is going to end up dead."

"Robin, damn it, just _hold on_ a second—!"

But Buffy's plea fell on deaf ears, as the door swung open and Wood stalked out into the rainy night.

"Well, this is interesting," Kennedy sneered at the Chosen One. "I gotta ask, Buffy— how's it feel becoming unemployed, just like that?"

"Kennedy?" Willow spoke up way too calmly; in spite of her struggle to control her anger, it wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking right now. "Do me a favor and _shut up_."

"Or else what?" the Potential Slayer demanded belligerently, despite knowing that their relationship, if not officially over, was now on serious life support.

"Or else, I will personally throw you out of my house and onto the streets," Angel told her coldly. "The First's Bringers are probably out there, right now, looking for every Potential they can find in order to kill them. So, tell me…just how long do you think you could survive out there, alone?"

Kennedy glared impotently at him, before stalking off in the direction of the kitchen.

"Wow," Andrew breathed in semi-awe. _This would make for such an amazing comic book storyline..._

"That is one angry young woman," Anya shook her head. "You people should watch out that she doesn't get a visit from one of my old colleagues in the vengeance demon business!"

"Not the time," Oz shook his head as he glanced at Willow. "Willow…are you—"

"Fine," the redhead muttered, shaking her head as she took in another deep breath. Managing a shaky smile, she returned her gaze to the werewolf rocker. "Sorry you had to see that. Y'know, with the black hair and the magickal crankiness…"

"Well, hey, fair trade," Oz quipped with a small smile. "At least you didn't try to eat me after you changed…something I'm definitely guilty of."

The pair exchanged a small chuckle as a wave of high school nostalgia swept over them.

But their brief amusement was short-lived as they took in the sight of a stressed, tired and now-unemployed Buffy slumping against a nearby floor column. The Slayer had been having a miserable night, and it seemed to be getting worse by the second.

"Well, this top five night is starting to inch up a few slots on the 'Worst Night Ever' list," the Chosen One dejectedly mused.

Angel felt yet another rush of guilt flood him as he saw the woman he loved in such desperate straits. Because of him. Again. Even if he hadn't been directly responsible for what had happened to Robin's mother, he was still feeling the burden of her death, Robin's grief and Buffy's resulting stress on his soul.

It was yet another cross he had to bear. Yet another time he had managed to hurt the people closest to him, simply because he was who he was.

Slowly crossing towards her until he was at her side, Angel offered her a stare filled with apologetic penance. "This…this is all my fault. Buffy, about Spike—"

"Angel, please…don't," she interrupted him, which almost made the Champion shrink into himself at the thought that she was angry with him, until he saw a small half-smile on Buffy's face. "Don't try to shoulder the load on this one, Atlas. My lie, my screw-up, my fault. End of story."

Still, Angel pursed his lips as he could not shake the feeling of responsibility for the current outcome. After all, he and Drusilla were responsible for Spike and everything he'd done. "I just wish I could do something to make this better."

"You're here," she smiled at him. "See? Already getting better."

The small, somewhat guilty but still tender smile that Angel was giving her was short-lived as a concerned Giles crossed the threshold and spoke.

"Buffy, could I talk to you and Angel…alone?" Giles asked. "The fact is, we've just lost a valuable ally; and we need to decide what to do, concerning Mr. Wood."

Nodding slowly, Buffy and her ex-boyfriend accompanied the British man to the vampire's private office, closing the door behind them…

…just as a soaked and bedraggled-looking Cordelia helped the limping Xander enter the hotel.

Willow took in the appearance of her two old classmates in concern. "Xander? Cordy? You guys okay?"

Looking over at the solemn, mascara-streaked face of Cordelia, Xander forced a smile upon his face as he addressed his best friend. "Uh, I think we're getting there," he offered guardedly, after which Harris could feel Cordy's grip on his waist tighten slightly. They had already agreed not to mention her half-hearted attempt at suicide to anyone else, at least not for the moment.

As she caught sight of the Seer's arm around her ex's torso, Anya's lips tightened as jealousy ripped through her like a speeding bullet. With a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her, the centuries-old woman immediately stamped upstairs in a huff, snapping, "Get the hell out of my way!" as she brushed past the Potentials.

Gunn frowned in confusion. "What's her problem?"

"Anya's problem? You got a few hours to kill?" Willow smirked, which earned small chuckles from Dawn, Oz and Fred…although, expectedly, Connor was left to wonder in puzzlement at what was so funny.

"I, uh, excuse me..." Andrew stammered, before he chased after Xander's ex upon seeing that no one else was planning to do so.

Between his tending to a still-shaken and possibly suicidal Cordelia, and witnessing a visibly furious and seething Anya depart so abruptly, Xander inwardly grimaced as he realized that this uncomfortable situation between him, Anya and Cordy was rapidly reaching new levels of ridiculous awkwardness. _Damn it, I don't need __**this**__ right now-!_

Getting caught in the middle between his ex-girlfriend and his ex-fiancée was the last place he had expected to be when he arrived in LA. And while there was once a time when Xander had dreamed about being the prize in a competition fought by two incredibly hot girls, the unexpected fulfillment of that particular fantasy was bringing him anything but satisfaction right now.

Suddenly, the doors of the Hyperion swung open again as a wet Spike stepped in through into the hotel, a similarly drenched Faith walking about a half-step behind him.

"Hey," Faith greeted the white hats neutrally. She wasn't exactly perfectly happy, as the last part of her date with Spike was definitely on the suckish side, but the race back to the hotel—which she'd won by a nose, to Spike's dismay and her delight—and Spike's close company had made up for much of it.

"Top of the early morning, all," Spike drawled.

"Hello, Spike. So nice of you to show up, just in the nick of 'too late'," Xander sniped.

The peroxide-blonde vampire rolled his eyes, even as he noticed the Seer holding onto Harris a mite too tightly just to keep him from falling down. "Don't start with me, Peg Leg Pete. Not in the mood for your bloody prattle."

"Where the hell have you guys been?" Willow demanded, annoyed. "Faith, Wes sent you a text and everything, like, ages ago!"

Spike and Faith exchanged serious glances before the vampire returned his glance to the witch. "Got here as quick as we could, Red, but thing is - we had ourselves a little problem. Of the eyeless, slashy, kill-you-dead evil minion variety."

Oz frowned in realization. "Bringers?"

Faith touched her nose. "Bingo. And they brought a friend. Looks like Spike's undead ex-squeeze is back in town."

The remaining Scoobies exchanged puzzled glances. "Harmony?" ventured Dawn.

Spike shook his head. "Not quite, Nibblet. Think older, darker hair, a few hundred ticks more crazier."

It took a moment before the words registered in a shocked Willow's face. "_Drusilla_?"

Faith nodded, with a slow sigh. "Yup. Decked out like some kind of Morticia Addams knock-off. Skankarella and the Seeing-Eye Dog Squad damn near killed me, too." With a grateful, although somewhat reluctant smile, she eyed her date. "Fortunately, Spike had my back."

The corner of Spike's mouth turned upwards in mirth. "You're welcome, luv."

The shocking news was still reverberating among the group, even the Potentials who were now whispering and muttering amongst themselves. The more literate among them passing the information along to the less informed of their number, which resulted in quite a few panicked-looking SiTs.

"Drusilla's back?" Cordelia uttered, stunned.

"Damn. That crazy chick's _here_?" Gunn added to the growing sense of confusion and dread.

Fred was confused. "Wait, you mean Drusilla, the vampire that Angel sired when he was..."

"A soulless, evil bastard? That's the one," Xander shook his head in dismay. "Great. Just what we needed; Angel's evil whackjob love child showing up. Child with an 'e', that is."

"Dru's back? And on the First's side, to boot? Well, this night just keeps getting better and better," Lindsey muttered, recalling his meetings with Drusilla two years ago.

Oz frowned. "Sounds like you know her."

Lindsey nodded. "I once had the pleasure of her making me fear for my life, in a wine cellar-slash-slaughterhouse. Lilah and I were the only survivors."

Kate shivered slightly as she recalled the crime scene photos of Darla and Drusilla's night of terror inside Holland Manners' estate. She had seen some pretty grizzly stuff in her time; but even she, a seasoned LAPD detective, had been unprepared for the brutality and gore that those pictures had showcased.

Willow shook her head. "Oh, this is bad. Very, very bad."

Spike shrugged, trying to make light of the situation, despite the fact that Dru's sudden appearance had thrown him for a loop as well. Of all the apocalypses in all the towns in all the world, she just had to walk into his. "Look, I know it looks bad, but it's hardly time to hide the kiddies and stash away the good silverware. So, Dru's back; I say, big deal. Just one more stone to toss on the pile."

"Don't be too sure," Fred sighed, tiredly. "You weren't here just now, when we got a late night visit from Lilah."

The name didn't ring any bells with Spike, but for Faith, it rang one huge gong. "Lilah? Lilah _Morgan_? What're you talking about, Fred? That bitch is dead, you guys told me that the last time I was here!"

"Well, apparently, they don't kill 'em like they used to anymore," Cordelia absently muttered, Lilah's pitiless taunts still reverberating in her head.

Taking pity on the new arrivals, Willow quickly filled Spike and Faith in on the rest of the details. The return of the Beast, Jasmine's departure, and how the First's true goal was to eradicate the entire multiverse within three weeks. And, as an afterthought, she added in Robin and Kennedy's failed attack on Angel before the high school principal had left the hotel in a rage.

_Good riddance_, was Spike's first thought concerning the last part. While he had felt some remorse over Nikki's death since his soul was restored, quite honestly, it had been Slayer against vampire in a fair fight to the death back then—and, ever a warrior, Spike wasn't the type to regret that he'd won against an enemy that would have killed him without hesitation, if she'd gotten the chance. Plus, Wood had gotten on his nerves lately; Spike hadn't forgotten how he'd ambushed him inside that garage two weeks ago, so quite frankly, he was glad to see the git go.

Spike also couldn't help but to notice how Faith had tensed at the mention of the Beast. In the earlier part of their date, she had told him that particular tale of when the rocky juggernaut had nearly beaten her to death weeks ago, before Angelus had stepped in with an unwitting save.

But the rest of the news was equally disturbing.

"Cor blimey," Spike muttered, stunned as he mulled over the other, universe-ending implications. "A bloke can't even step out for a beer around 'ere without everything going to hell straightaway."

"Erase all of existence?" Cordelia blurted in wide-eyed surprise. "The First can really do that?"

"Lilah seems to think so," Kate shook her head.

"And unless we find a way to stop it, everyone everywhere has only got three weeks left to live," Connor grimly added.

"Well, at least ol' Firsty doesn't discriminate," Xander quipped half-heartedly. "Not just one world, but all worlds. Sharing in one big, fiery doom. MLK would be proud."

Faith snorted. "Thanks for the analogy, Ghandi. Of course, it doesn't answer the one burning question—how the hell do we stop it?"

"Well, we do have one thing in our favor," Dawn piqued up. "The bitchy Lawyer Lady gave us some shiny crystal doohickie called the Keystone. Said it's supposed to open up this Eye of Creation, when the big moment comes."

"Got it right here," Lorne said as he upheld the metal suitcase that Lilah had left. "Got to say, for something that's supposed to end the world in a flaming flash of death and mayhem…it's kinda pretty."

Xander limped over with Cordelia's help to have a look at the Keystone, as Lorne opened up the metal suitcase for them to peruse it. The injured young man heard an almost-inaudible intake of breath from his ex-girlfriend, as Cordy held the Keystone in her hands with an odd expression on her face. _Wonder what that's about?_

Gunn yawned at that moment, the long night starting to take its toll on him. "Hate to break up a debriefing, but can we go over this again in the morning? Pretty sure the world's still gonna be in danger by the time breakfast rolls around."

Oz rolled his sore shoulders. "I am a little on the sleepy side myself."

He looked to Willow. "I'm gonna escort the girls back upstairs. If you wanna talk after…"

Willow smiled, but shook her head. "Kinda tired for chatting. And I've got a lot to think about, especially what just happened with Kennedy. But…in the morning?"

The werewolf nodded in understanding, giving her a soft smile in return. "No prob, Will."

With that, Oz began to shepherd all the Potentials back up to their rooms, Willow's eyes fixed upon him as he ascended the stairs.

"What a mess," Whistler shook his head as the frightened and confused teenage girls followed the werewolf numbly. "I'm outta here, kids; got to check with the Conduit, see if the Powers have any new orders for me. I'll see you in the morning!"

The balance demon left through the front doors, after which Lorne offered, "Might I also suggest we all adjourn for the night? Boys and girls, it's been a _long _day…_yawn…_and I for one could do with some shut-eye!"

Dawn yawned, nodding. "What he said." She gave her boyfriend an intense hug and a quick kiss, before heading upstairs to her assigned room, Lorne following not too far behind after surrendering the Keystone into Cordelia's care.

His hormones surging, Connor barely resisted the urge to follow her and drag Dawn into his own room for the night; instead, he headed down to the basement, to check the cage that had been constructed to hold Angelus. He didn't know for sure, but after what had happened with Kennedy, the Miracle Child thought it might be needed again soon...

Gunn and Fred stared at one another uncomfortably. "Well...good night," the brunette woman said, unable to meet Gunn's stare.

"Night, Fred. See you in the morning," the black man muttered, staring at her for one long, painful moment before the former couple went their separate ways to sleep.

Kate just shook her head as soon as she saw Lindsey staring longingly at the place where Darla had disappeared, after she'd gone chasing after Wesley. _Jesus, I really have wandered into the middle of a freaking soap opera..._

"Come on, Lawyer Boy. You can start obsessing about the woman of your dreams again first thing in the morning," Kate said contemptuously, yanking Lindsey along with her up to the second floor of the Hyperion.

Deciding that she may as well turn in herself, Willow was about to head upstairs when she stopped short and turned to Spike, somewhat concerned. _I have to warn him, after everything that's happened tonight..._

"Uh, Spike, do me a favor?" the witch asked. "If you can, could you…sorta avoid bumping into Angel anytime soon?"

Spike was caught offguard by Willow's unexpected request. "Well, it's not like I was plannin' to get all chummy with Captain Forehead anyway, Red—but mind if I ask why you want me to head the other way if I see 'im?"

"Some stuff came up tonight during the whole Robin thing, and…well, I just think it might be a good idea for you to be somewhere tonight that's, y'know, not near him," Willow explained.

"Might I once again suggest the scenic isle of Timbuktu?" Xander snarked.

Spike just shook his head. "Timbuktu's an in-land town in Africa, you blood dunce. I knew you were dense, but just how bloody stupid are you, Harris?"

"Okay, stop it!" Willow interrupted their pending insult-fest; she'd already had more than her fill of that crap for tonight. "Xander, get Cordy to take you upstairs, you still shouldn't be up and around. Spike, just stay away from Angel until the morning, and Faith? Could ya make sure everyone goes to bed, already? Spike, Xander, you two can rip each other's heads off after breakfast tomorrow for all I care, but tonight - just get some sleep!"

Surprised by the redhead's outburst, Spike and Xander reluctantly backed off. Both had learned by now not to mess with a cranky Willow.

"Xander?" Cordelia said his name softly. "Wanna go upstairs now?"

Taking note of the brunette's tired and vulnerable expression, Xander's face softened as he nodded silently. Harris subsequently allowed himself to lean on her as they slowly trudged up the stairs, the Seer holding the suitcase which contained the Keystone in her other hand.

Willow turned back to Spike, a serious expression on his face. "I'm serious, Spike. I want your word that you'll keep away from Angel until tomorrow. Okay?"

A bored, breathless sigh was Spike's response. "Fine, Red, I'll keep my distance from that lumbering oaf. Got better things to do, anyway."

"Good," she sighed in relief. Willow then paused for a moment. "Oh, and if Kennedy shows up asking about me? Tell her that I'm sleeping alone tonight. And that it's none of her damn business where."

With that, she finally walked up the stairs and out of sight…leaving Spike and Faith alone.

"Well, bugger me. Hell of a night, eh?" Spike asked in sardonic amusement.

"No kidding," Faith snorted. "TV writers couldn't come up with this kind of stuff."

"Well, in all fairness, they try," Spike replied with a grin. "_Passions_ has some pretty decent storylines." Off Faith's raised eyebrow, he quickly amended. "Er, uh, so I heard…not that I'd ever be caught dead watching that crap! Well, deader than I am now, anyway."

Faith chuckled for a moment, before her expression became more serious. "Um, seriously…I, uh, just wanted to say thanks again, for, y'know, that whole thing with Drusilla back there. You really did save my ass, Spike."

Spike shrugged it off, offering a smile. "Well, you kinda bailed me out when Dru had me by the throat. So, I reckon we can call it a fair trade."

"Right," Faith nodded, hesitantly. "Well, um…thanks again for tonight. I…I, uh, had fun, at least most of the time, so…"

"Yeah," Spike agreed, somewhat clumsily. "Me, too. Fun…fun's good. Well, apart from the having to fight for our lives near the end."

Faith smirked. "Are you kidding? That was the highlight of the night, for me!"

A smooth smile appeared on Spike's face. "Then you obviously need to see yourself dancing."

Her smile was smoldering. "You weren't too bad yourself, Blue Eyes. Damn, next time, warn a girl before you get down like that!"

His smile grew wider as he drew closer to Faith. "So…is that an invite for another date, then?"

Faith's smile slightly faded, as she put a hand to his chest and gently held him at bay. "Tempting…but I think I'll have to say 'thanks, but no thanks' on that one. For now, at least."

Spike frowned. "But I thought you said you had fun, luv. And in theory, if ya had fun the first time, the sequel should be a hoot."

"Sure, it was fun…right up until you mentioned B's name. Y'know, when you started on about your big majestic love for her," Faith shrugged, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice.

To his chagrin, Spike found that he really had no comeback for that.

Taking his silence as an unspoken admission that she was correct, a disappointed Faith continued, "Look, Spike. I…I like you, okay? I like you a lot. But I'm not into sloppy seconds, and I'm done with settling for second best. You say you want to go out with me again, and yet half an hour ago, it was B who was on your mind? Dude, I'm just not into that shit; no self-respecting girl is. So, you've got a decision to make—you want to keep pining after Buffy, or do you want to give 'us' a chance?"

A frustrated pseudo-exhalation escaped Spike's lips. He hadn't meant for things to get this bloody complicated! And he hadn't expected to have to make such a huge decision so quickly, either. Yet, to his everlasting chagrin, here he was. _How did I get meself into this mess?_

For so long, all he could see was Buffy. He had changed everything that made him who he was, at the expense of his pride and his heart, all for her. _Only_ for her. She was the sun around which his world had revolved, for nearly three years; and while Spike had never really thought he had a serious chance with her, even before the rape attempt, there was always the glimmer of hope that one day, somehow, Buffy would admit that she was _his_...and over the past six months since he won his soul back, that hope had been growing stronger and stronger after the Slayer had rescued him from that Turok-Han, and had even consented to holding his hand in public.

And yet, at the same time, Spike could not deny that whatever was going on between him and Faith…it was powerful. Palpable. Sensual. Electric. Real. And it was impossible to ignore any longer…

"C'mon, luv, do you actually expect me to choose between you _right now_?" Spike demanded incredulously.

Faith shook her head. "No. But I do expect you to think about it. Give me a serious answer…soon. And hey, if you decide you still want Buffy, no harm, no foul; far as I'm concerned, we'll still be cool."

The dark-haired Slayer paused, trying to find the right words; it wasn't every day that she put herself out there like this. So vulnerable, so open to the familiar sting of rejection that she had fought to shield herself from all these years. "But if you decide to take a chance…and you don't mind putting up with someone who's a little on the emotionally damaged side, eats like a horse, has a major attitude problem, but promises that she'll never give you a dull moment…and that there's no one else she'll ever have eyes for…"

Slowly, tentatively, Faith reached up and gently squeezed his right bicep, trailing the grip of her fingers down the smooth sleeves of his black leather duster. And even though he couldn't technically feel her touch, Spike would be damned if he denied that he could literally feel the electricity of her touch making the hairs on his arm stand at attention.

"…then I won't be too hard to find," Faith finished up with a small smile. "Just look for the hot brunette with the leather pants and the nice right cross that loves property damage."

With that simple declaration, the Slayer turned around and walked up the stairs - leaving Spike dumbfounded, enraptured, frustrated, thrilled and confused at the same time.

_Bloody, sodding, shitty hell! _Spike knew that he now had one heck of a decision to make, and these were questions that were not going to go away. Sooner or later, he would have to give Faith an answer; and most likely sooner rather than later.

But how could he be expected to choose so quickly on something so hard? Buffy was the one he'd wanted for so long, but could he _truly _compete with Angel and the steep, angst-rich history those two shared, that Anne Rice forbidden romance crap that bound them together? Spike was pretty sure he could, given how those two lived in two different cities now and the memories could sustain you for only so long, before you had to wake up and face reality. Or, at least, that's what he was banking on…

But if he did choose his golden-haired goddess, could he really live with himself if he let Faith slip away? Never knowing what might have been, if he had just given her - given _them_ - a chance? Could Faith possibly be the one that would truly love him for who and what he was…without his Grandsire's ghost constantly between them...the one that could make him happy?

A frustrated hand ran through his peroxide-blonde locks as Spike stalked into the kitchen. _Bleeding heck, where's a fight to the death when you really need one? At least there, the only heartache I'd have to worry about would come from a chest wound_…

Popping into the kitchen as he swiftly grabbed a beer to chug down on the way up to bed, Spike almost missed a sulking and angry Kennedy, standing in the corner of the kitchen as she held a paper towel to her still-bleeding lip.

As he cracked open the Heineken beer can, the ensouled vampire couldn't help but to smirk at the bloody-lipped Potential, as Kennedy had been his least favorite of the Slayer wannabes. _She's got a mouth on her, that one...one that looks like it's been smacked around a bit tonight..._

"So what happened to _you_, Fiesty? You look a right mess, you do," Spike said disdainfully, before turning around and leaving; failing to see the angry middle finger salute that a livid Kennedy responded with.

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Angel's private office**

**A few moments previously**

* * *

As Slayer, Watcher and Vampire-With-A-Soul, version 1.0, stood around within Angel's office, the mood was thick with discomfort.

Giles was still processing the unfathomable size to which this apocalypse had grown, while Buffy was reeling from the fact that she was once again out of a job, and Angel was still brooding over both his limited connection to Nikki Wood's decades-old murder and the role he'd inadvertently played in having Buffy fired.

"I…I must say, this situation has gotten out of control in - something of a hurry," Giles mused, cleaning his glasses. "Even more so than usual."

A wry smile made its way to Buffy's lips. "And the 'Understatement of the Year' award goes to…"

The British man merely rolled his eyes, having long become accustomed to Buffy's sarcasm over the better part of a decade. "Be that as it may…our list of allies is starting to grow thin. And given the situation, the loss of Mr. Wood's help - someone with past experience and knowledge of the Slayer-Watcher dynamic needed in training the girls - is only going to make things that much harder for us."

The blonde Slayer sighed heavily, taking in Giles's assessment. _I should have seen this coming..._ Frankly, in hindsight Buffy was surprised that Robin had stuck around after the whole garage attack thing with Spike; everyone had a breaking point.

For Robin, Angel was that breaking point. Or else Buffy's threat to kill him, if he ever attacked either Spike or Angel again.

"You're right," Angel finally spoke up, his brow creased in thought. "But between you and Wes, Giles, we've still got enough sources of Council knowledge to be able to bring the Potentials up to speed. And with Faith here, that gives them another Slayer to learn from, aside from Buffy. Plus, Gunn and Connor are pretty good fighters; I'm sure they could pick up any slack, teach those girls a few pointers."

Buffy, silently weighing Angel's suggestions, suddenly felt a little less stressed. This was where the advantages of superhero team-ups came in handy; strength in numbers. If they were still in Sunnydale, they would have been pretty much screwed with Robin's sudden withdrawal from the group; but here, there was some extra talent available.

Buffy had already been feeling the grind and stress of playing trainer to the girls while trying to figure out how to stop the First's rampage, before they'd arrived in LA. Fortunately, Angel and his crew could provide much-needed help in spades on a myriad of levels.

"Plus," Buffy added brightly to the ensouled vampire, "there's always you. I mean, training with you helped me develop, like, gangbusters way back when. And if we're gonna train those girls to be ready to become Slayers, who better to help teach 'em a thing or two than the most badass formerly evil vampire on the planet?"

Despite a small swell of pride at Buffy's compliment, Angel could not take in the full pleasure of it. "Buffy...we'll have to work me in slowly. Judging by what the Potentials thought of me just now after they saw my real face, I don't think they'll be so much concentrating on training if I'm around, than they would be shaking in fear of their lives."

"They'll get used to you, they same way they did with Spike in Sunnydale," Buffy insisted. "They'll _have_ to. The First is making its final move, so we don't have time to hold anybody by the hand anymore. We need them to get better _now_; and besides, once they get to know you -"

"They already know me…well, _of_ me, anyway," the undead hero interrupted, looking down in shame.

Buffy quickly jumped to his defense. "No. No, Angel, they only know what they've read about you, not the _real_ you."

The familiar shroud of guilt wrapped around Angel. "Yeah, well. Tell that to your ex-boss..."

Giles felt more than a little uncomfortable being present now; it was as if he was intruding on what was evolving into a private conversation. But be that as it may he, better than most, understood just how difficult it was to separate the man from the monster whenever it came to Angel.

After the nightmarish year that was 1998, learning how to forgive Angel had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Giles had truly come to hate the demon wearing Angel's face both for gleefully torturing him for hours, and murdering his beloved Jenny. But he had eventually done so, mostly for Buffy's sake, but also because Giles had also known what it was like to have blood on his hands - after his actions had caused unintended consequences.

After all, it was he and Ethan who had introduced the idea of summoning Eyghon the Sleepwalker to their circle of friends back in the 1970s; and for that, Giles had taken full responsibility for the death of his friend Randall, as well as the others when Eyghon had begun to hunt them down decades later - ironically enough, only to be vanquished by Angel himself.

So, despite his own feelings on the matter, Rupert remained silent as he watched his Slayer and the souled vampire continue their discussion.

"Angel, c'mon - you can't blame yourself for what happened to Robin's mother," Buffy argued. "You weren't even the one who killed her! Spike was the vampire who did that."

"You think that matters? Or that it matters to Wood?" Angel countered matter-of-factly. "I don't have to have been the one to have killed her to be responsible for her death, even partly. She's dead because I created Drusilla, and she Sired Spike. Take me out of the equation, and both Spike and Dru would have been passed away decades before then…which means, his mother wouldn't have been killed that night."

"Or, she would have ended up getting killed by another vamp, anyway - and Robin would still hate you just for being what you are," Buffy replied frankly. "Us Slayers aren't exactly known for our long life spans, remember? I mean, look at me - 'Queen of the Dual Resurrection' talking, here."

Angel shook his head at her naïveté. As much as he loved that aspect of Buffy, he could not deny how that was always her biggest weakness; how she always saw nothing but the good in him, almost to a fault.

Yes, indeed. And as much as his beloved knew about his past, there were still so many horrible things that he was far too ashamed to tell her.

"But it wasn't any other vampire, Buffy - it was _Spike_," Angel pseudo-sighed. "You may think know what he's…what _we're_…really capable of. But I know the real truth - because I _made_ him, after Dru turned him. I built Spike from the ground up, taught him just about everything he knows about the hunt. How to think, how to move, how to trap a victim, just the right way to break them before they die…there was a time we were as close as brothers; if only you knew all the terrible things we did together…"

Angel could not prevent the torrent of dark memories drenched in blood flash before his eyes, hear the screams from the victims of his and Spike's tandem hunts echoing in his ears. Crashing high society weddings in London and turning happy days into hideous, blood-caked nightmares. Raiding orphanages in Munich and snatching children into the bowels of the night, their young faces etched in terror as they disappeared forever.

Him and his 'grandson' laughing and bonding over ale, blood and the tears and screams for mercy of whatever fetching young lady they would pick out of a crowd to torture, rape and murder to round off their Wednesday night fun in Paris - while Darla and Drusilla were off doing the same elsewhere…

"...wasn't you, Angel. It was _him…_Angelus," Buffy's fervent voice brought him back to reality. "You - the _real_ you - wouldn't do any of those things. I know, because I know you. You're nothing like Angelus! And you never will be."

"She's got a point, you know," Giles' voice surprised the both of them. His wisdom-filled green eyes met Angel's stunned brown-eyed gaze. "Angel…you and I have our own history, and we both know that, all things considered, it's not exactly a pleasant one."

Off Angel's guilt-ridden, downcast gaze, the Watcher continued, "However, I learned long ago that, that while there is a demon inside of you that's capable of terrible, apocalyptic things…I-I-I've also come to understand that there's also a man in there. And, over the years, as I've seen you risk life and limb to protect Buffy…who's the closest thing I have to a daughter…"

The corner of Rupert's mouth turned up as she could see Buffy's eyes begin to mist with tears at his words. _Yes, all right, I admit it's true..._

"…and sacrifice your own love for her to ensure her protection, as well as hearing of what you've done to protect the innocents h-here in this city…I, I've come to respect that man. Plus, for reasons that go beyond what I can understand, the Powers chose _you_ to fight as their Champion. Now, I-I can't predict the future, but I know this…if we're going to win this war, then we'll need you at your best. No doubts, no, um, second-guessing yourself. In war time, one does what one must; a-a-and know that, whatever else has come before, I'm glad to have you on our side."

The smile that appeared on Angel's face was reluctant but genuine. He had always respected Giles, and to have his endorsement, despite their past history, meant the world to him. "Thank you, Giles. You…have no idea what that means to me."

"Yes…well," Giles began, only to be cut off when Buffy quickly launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a big hug.

While briefly surprised - especially with the way the Slayer had cut him out of her life, after that failed attempt to distract her while Wood was dealing with Spike - Giles quickly returned Buffy's hug with one of his own, tenderly embracing the young woman that he had come to care for more than he could have ever thought possible. _Good Lord, but it's been a while..._

While Quentin Travers and the Council had understood what sort of bond developed between field Watchers and their Slayers, they had expressly forbidden it, and once fired Giles because of it; they preferred for their operatives to keep a cool head and not to get attached to a girl who was merely an instrument of war for a higher cause, in their eyes.

_But then_, Giles mused, _none of them ever had to deal with a girl quite like Buffy Summers._

As she pulled back, Buffy stared up at the Englishman with a grateful spark in her blue-green eyes. "You're amazing; you know that, right?"

His own eyes felt watery for a moment, as Giles quickly stifled the urge to sigh…well, mostly. "As I've been trying to convey to you for some time, yes," he joked lightly.

As he gently extracted himself from her arms, Giles slowly put his glasses back on. "So that being said, I-I think I'll be turning in for the evening. There'll be much to do tomorrow, and, um, uh, I think we'd all be best served with a good night's rest. So I, I'd advise you to go to bed, Buffy. Good night, both of you."

With that, the former high school librarian made his exit from the room, leaving Angel and Buffy alone in his office.

"Maybe we should take his advice," Angel suggested, as he took in Buffy's tired appearance. "You look like you could use some rest."

Buffy frowned playfully. "I don't know whether to think that was really sweet, or slightly offensive."

"You look fine," Angel insisted, with a charming smile. "No, better than fine - beautiful. You always do."

As her knees became slightly wobbly, Buffy felt a smile of her own spread on her face. "Flatterer. I know that if I look into a mirror right now, I'll see someone who looks like she was on the bad end of a ninety-percent-off shoe sale on Rodeo Drive…but points for trying."

The tender moment between the former lovers was suddenly broken, as Buffy realized there was one crucial detail they still had to cover - Spike. "Angel…look, I know the last few days have been tense…but…about Spike. What you've learned just now concerning Robin - I need you to, you know, not kill him or anything for it, okay?"

The smile vanished from Angel's face, as he heard the name of his repulsive Grandchilde coming off of his sweet Buffy's lips.

Off his dark scowl, Buffy grimaced. "Oh, God. Why does that face not offer me any assurances that you'll do what I ask?"

"I still think he's dangerous, Buffy," Angel argued. "And if what you told me about the First using Spike as an unwitting pawn is true—"

"That's over now," Buffy said immediately, and forcefully. "That trigger-y thing-y was deactivated, long before we got here. He's clean."

The Champion snorted. "Spike's a lot of things, Buffy…but he'll never be clean, anymore than I will."

"Doesn't matter," Buffy replied with a definite hint of annoyance. "We still need him. Apart from you, me, Faith, and possibly even your son, Spike's the strongest warrior we have. And if the First is really planning to pour a big bottle of bleach over all of reality in three weeks, then we're going to need to throw everyone and everything we've got at it in order to survive. That's why I need you to keep it together, whenever you encounter him. Okay?"

Recalling what Buffy had confided in him about her twisted tryst with Spike - particularly the part where he had tried to rape her last year - Angel felt a wave of anger and jealousy rise within him that he found very difficult to repress. _Does she really understand what she's asking me to do?_

His eyes beheld Buffy for a moment, analysing her body language. "You sure that's your only reason for keeping him around? Not something else?"

Buffy, surprised and angry, beat back the urge to hit her former lover in the face for that remark. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, since the Angel I know would never make such a stupid schoolyard remark…something that's completely beneath him."

"I've gotten more progressive in the last few years; not even remotely mature," Angel wryly added, before he dropped the attitude upon seeing the quickly developing anger on Buffy's pretty face. "You're right…I'm sorry. That was out of line. It's just…"

The vampire balled his fists in frustration. "…after everything you've told me. Knowing what he did…what he tried to do to you…I'd want to tear apart anyone who did that. But knowing that it was him…how am I supposed to just sit back and let Spike simply walk around my home, with that damned smirk plastered all over his face, and not put my fist all the way through his skull?"

Relaxing for a moment, Buffy reached up and gently touched his face. "Because I'm asking you to. And because you're better than that.

"Look, that thing with me and Spike was…complicated." Off the jealous spark in his eyes, she hastily amended, "Just like I'm sure what's developed between you and Cordelia, is just as complicated! But Spike's different now. He has a soul, like you. And like you, he deserves a chance to show that he's changed. But even putting all that aside, we've now got one hell of a battle on our hands…and if what we had ever meant anything to you, trust me. _Please_, for me…just try to keep things peaceable between you two."

_Damn it_, was the first thought that entered Angel's mind as Buffy looked up at him with those perfect, expressive blue-green eyes of hers. Logically, he knew she was right; but every instinct blaring within Angel's mind wanted to seek Spike out and pound him into dust, rip him apart and hear his agonized screams fill the room like music. _It's what he deserves; both for what he did to Buffy, and to Wood's mother._

But Angel could never deny Buffy anything, especially not when she looked at him like this…even after all these years, all it took was one look from those pretty eyes of hers, and he'd be ready to walk barefoot into hell for her.

Taking a long moment, Angel finally, and slowly, replied, "Things will never be peaceable between me and Spike, Buffy…but, if it means that much to you, I won't try to kill him."

Buffy sighed in relief, gently stroking his face. She knew that was the best concession she was going to get right now. "Thank you."

"I…I just think I need to be alone for a bit. As long as I can avoid looking at the guy right now, I think I'll be alright," Angel managed to say, alternating between controlling his rage at the thought of Spike and enjoying the sparks of pleasure arising from Buffy's soft touch. "I'll take a minute to see if I can make any more sense of whatever Jasmine plugged into my head, and then I'll head off to bed."

The smile Buffy gave him was soft, sweet and chaste. "Okay," she said, standing on her tip-toes and giving him a quick kiss on the lips…one much too brief for either of their preferences.

"Just don't work too late, Sherlock," Buffy smiled teasingly before she slowly walked out and closed the door behind her, leaving Angel in a semi-daze as he took in the enthralling traces of her vanilla scent…and in aggravation as he mulled over just how exactly he was going to last an entire three weeks under the same roof as Spike without dusting the follicle-fried idiot like he deserved.

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Wesley's old room**

**Fifteen minutes earlier**

* * *

As the rain poured down outside the window, falling in transparent, cascading rivulets, Wesley stared desolately outside into the dark landscape of the City of Angels. The City of Lonely Hearts.

Hearts made after his own broken one.

He took another swig from the flask of whiskey he had secreted here in the hotel room, long ago when he had belonged here. Not that he needed it - the days when he had taken comfort in finding the bottom of whatever drink he could get his hands on, after the Connor kidnapping debacle, had now passed. This time last year, in the depths of his self-loathing and despair, Wesley would have gladly welcomed the death that the bottle would have given him; so that he would be free of his loneliness. His pain.

But these days, Wes had preferred to keep his head clear and sober. He'd needed his wits about him while running his own demon hunting operations. Just like now, with the fate of all the worlds out there hanging in the balance. His help was needed to avert Armageddon.

Or, at least, that was what Wesley had convinced himself was true. And that knowledge was all that stood between him and the edge of the abyss.

Unfortunately that purpose, that function that drove him to shove his inner demons back into their box and focus on the task at hand, to focus on saving lives…was now hanging on by a thread. After all, it wasn't all in one night that all of his failures, all of his demons, had all been gathered together in one room at the same time.

Connor, full of angst and rage, his childhood lost to Holtz and Sahjhan's manipulations, because of his grievous faith in a false prophecy.

His former friends carrying on, living, loving, caring for one another…without him in their lives. Cast away as a traitor, an unwanted pariah among the only people whose opinion ever mattered to him.

And the final, icy kiss of death…_her_.

Lilah.

As if on cue, a song on the radio Wes had almost forgotten he'd turned on began blaring out a familiar tune; one of Lilah's favorites, which he had used to poke fun at her during their post-coital pillow talks…

_I've been over you for some time now baby  
I don't miss your kiss like before now anymore now  
If you asked me how I'm doin' I'm fine  
All I needed was a little time_

And all at once, Wesley could see Lilah's eyes light up in his mind's eye. That night where what had once been meaningless sex…had become something more…

"_It's not a secret." _

_Lilah's raspy, sultry tone interrupted his idle musings as they lay in the afterglow of yet another one of their late night trysts, Celine Dion music playing softly in the background. _

_Wesley knew that he would probably regret asking this. After all, the way their…arrangement…worked was simple: meet up. Have sex. Leave. Lather, rinse and repeat as required. No talking needed…or wanted._

_But his family and the Watchers had created an ever-inquisitive mind, so he was just too curious for his own good. "What isn't a secret?"_

Lilah's eyes were still half-closed, a calm, blissful look on her face as she lay entwined in his arms, her lovely naked form glistening with sweat under the sheets of his bed.

"_Us. The firm knows that we're...doing…this."_

_As Lilah's soft, delicate hand trailed down his lean, sweat-matted chest, he could've sworn that he felt the sparks from her touch. Loathe as he was to admit it - but never aloud, and most certainly never to her - he was beginning to enjoy their amorous activities in bed. And on his couch. On the coffee table. In the kitchen. In the shower. In the elevator. In the stairwell of his apartment…and her apartment. Behind a nearby church one time. (Now that one was quite a tale, he thought to himself with some hint of…amusement.)_

_Yet, he couldn't help but notice that something between them was…changing. And that surprised him. After all, they weren't married. They weren't dating. They weren't friends with benefits. Hell, they weren't even friends. It was more akin to…mortal enemies with a sex-filled time-out zone. _

_He knew…they both knew…the risks. That what they were doing was as unnatural as oil and water mixing. At heart he was still a Watcher, trained to be a steward of Good, of the Light. She was from Wolfram & Hart, bred to be an agent of Evil, of the Dark. They were at war…and on opposite sides. Opposite lines on that perpetual battlefield._

_And yet, whenever they'd met over the last few months, whenever their lips would clash, tongues duelling for dominance, their bodies colliding in an angry, heated, grinding embrace, those lines weren't blurred…they were obliterated in a supernova-like explosion of sex and hate and salty skin._

_Lilah's skin, its velvety softness and its fair countenance, was something he had grown rather addicted to, as of late - trailing one of his daft, nimble fingers down the sensitive flesh of her shoulder. _

_His British-accented voice was low, rumbly…distant, yet somewhat warm. A microcosm of the enigma that had become Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, as of late. "Isn't it their job to know this sort of thing? The sordid details of their employees' lives?"_

A sigh escaped those lovely lips of hers. "Mmm...yeah, I just thought I should tell you." A mischievous smile spread across her face. "Sordid. **Rrreow**," Lilah laughed with a sultry, catlike sound that actually drew a small chuckle, filled with genuine amusement, from him.

_Her smile faded as she leaned against his chest, her silky mane splayed across him. "Angel knows too."  
_

_Lilah was testing him. He knew how her mind worked. Trying to gauge his reaction to that unexpected statement. Typical lawyer strategy. So, he employed a classic Watcher move—using logic as his weapon. Logic…and truth. _

_"I don't work for Angel anymore," he said simply, quietly. Not a trace of emotion present. He sounded almost bored. "And I could care less what he thinks."_

Her soft laughter caused his eyebrows to rise in curiosity. "You faker." Lilah's voice was soft, teasing…and somehow well-meaning.

Strange_, he thinks to himself, even as those skilled fingers of hers trace the scraggly scruff of his five o'clock shadow along his chin. "That's what you said when he was sleeping with the fishes. We both know how that played out."_

_Yes, he knew. It had taken two and a half months of torture before he could break Justine to get Angel's location. The bitch was stubborn, he gave her that, but in the end, even the most fanatical zealots have their breaking point. Renting the equipment needed to haul Angel out of the Pacific Ocean hadn't exactly been cheap, either. Yet, he'd done it, and without much consideration of the consequences._

_He had told Lilah afterwards that Angel was necessary in the overall scheme of things. Which was true enough, and it was what it was; it didn't mean he had to like it or understand it. He just had to accept it. And as a Watcher, or a former one, anyway, he held one rule in particular close to his heart: respect the natural order of things._

"That was… different," he replied somewhat guardedly, before letting out a tired sigh as he brought her in closer to him, nuzzling her hair as the smell of Dior peppered his nose. "So Angel knows about our relationship. Big deal."

Oops_, he realized his slip-up a moment too late, though not as quickly as Lilah shot up out of bed and hopped onto his lap, a beaming, giddy smile on her face._

"A dollar! You owe me a dollar."

He groaned in apparent dismay, though he couldn't fight back a slowly budding smile. "Oh, damn!"

"You called this a 'relationship,'" Lilah declared in ecstatic victory, planting a soft kiss on his temple, a tender gesture and…very sweet. Very unlike the cold, viper-like, cutthroat lawyer that had delighted in being a thorn in Angel Investigations' side. No -this woman, this person was someone far different.

"_You lost the bet. You said it first." The woman at this moment, who singsonged these words with those soft, mirth-filled green eyes and that enchanting smile, wasn't a lawyer, wasn't a pawn of evil, or a seductive agent of discord and darkness. At this moment, she was just…Lilah. And she was beautiful. _

_With a warmer smile than before, Wesley took out a dollar from his wallet. _Well played,_ he thought as he handed her the paper note._

_Lilah held up her hand, still as giddy as a schoolgirl. "Sign it first, as proof."_

"Proof of what?"

Her eyes softened even further, revealing an even more vulnerable side of someone he had rarely seen any type of vulnerability. "Of now." She caught his eyes with that tender gaze of hers, gently nuzzling his nose.

"_Of this." _

_And as their lips met, not with the heated fire of lust-hate that had spurned them on in their previous encounters, but with something different…something real…he felt a spark of warmth in his chest, that for so long had been filled with an icy distrust and melancholy. _

_Whoever would have thought it? That of all people, of all the women in all the world, it would be Lilah Morg…no, just Lilah…that could bring that out of him? _

_Theirs might not have been a perfect or conventional relationship, or even a healthy one. But it was real. And it was theirs…_

Wesley shook his head, thinking that he should have known how nothing lasts forever. Those were the words that his now-dead father had once told him when he was seven years old, and he had tried to revive a dead mockingbird in the gardens of his ancestral home with the aid of a scroll that he had stolen from his father's occult library.

"_Nothing lasts forever, boy._"

Nothing, indeed. Not love…or whatever it was that he and Lilah had shared. Not the bonds of friendship. Not the ties of family. Misery, guilt, resentment and heartache, however, seemed to have an enormously large shelf life. Still, they too wouldn't last forever…just until the day he died.

_Oh baby, _

_Since you left me you might think that my world's been torn apart_

_But if you see me, _

_Baby, you'll see that nothing's broken_

_Nothing's broken but my heart—_

With a deep, tired sigh, Wes took another swig of alcohol from the flask as he tiredly shut off the radio, trying to numb the pain. Another routine for him in a life that had become filled with such things during the last year or so. Wake up alone, eat alone, keep an eye on Angel Investigations from afar alone, have all manner and types of sex with a woman he was supposed to hate, watch her leave and end up sleeping again…alone.

Wesley hadn't thought about suicide for quite a few months now. Oh, he had considered it many times in the first few weeks after he was released from the hospital last year, especially after a round of very heavy drinking - only for him to sober up during the last few moments before the gun in his mouth could discharge, or he could let gravity's deadly grip embrace him from the ledge of his apartment building's rooftop.

Because even in the depths of despair Wes had felt he could still somehow do some good in this world, that he could still serve some purpose in the larger scheme of things.

But after everything that had happened…after Lilah's return, his father's death, Fred's cutting words, his exile from his friends, all of the bitter images of failure, betrayal, and darkness within him came rushing back to the forefront of his mind, cruelly taunting him...

As Wesley ran his fingers along the long scar etched across his throat, he could easily imagine the bliss of permanent release that death at Justine's hands would have offered him - had he not fought to live quite so hard that night. Just to let go, drift away into the afterlife, not having to know what he now knew…to just let go…

The knock on his door interrupted his morose musings. But the depressed Englishman was not in the mood to entertain any guests at this hour.

Yet after ignoring the first two knocks, the third was louder and more annoyingly insistent. _Damn it..._

"I'm busy," Wesley snapped brusquely, hoping that would discourage whoever was on the other side of the door, not knowing or caring who it was.

"Wesley…it's me, Darla," came a breathy, soft female voice from the other side.

_That_ gave Wes momentary pause. Of all the people who could have possibly been at his door, she was the last person that he would have expected at the moment. They hadn't had the chance to talk much since the night before, since that…amazing…kiss they'd shared before Darla had joined Buffy inside Cordelia's mind. And while he was well aware of her presence during Lilah's unexpected visit, for obvious reasons, he was too distracted to pay her any attention.

The more pessimistic side of Wesley's mind had half-expected to see her tomorrow morning with Lindsey's hooks firmly embedded in her, actually. After all, despite the man's dubious alliance with the white hats, McDonald still had more to offer Darla than Wesley did, at least in his mind. Lindsey was free-spirited, self-assured, unburdened by the shackles of regret and self-loathing that held down Wesley's spirit. While _he_, on the other hand, had become someone that could offer little to a woman searching for a stable man in her life.

After a moment, Wesley sighed. "Darla, I'm afraid this isn't a good time. If you could come back in the morning—"

"I just want to talk to you for a few moments," the blonde's airy voice beseeched him. "Wesley…_please_."

The pleading note in her voice tugged at the strings of his battered heart, forcing Wes to mull over his decision. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now; but still, it was Darla…

After a brief moment of indecision, Wesley finally gave in to his more optimistic side as he slowly walked to the door; opening it to reveal a beautiful, and very concerned-looking, Darla.

"Hi." Her greeting was soft-spoken, somewhat timid, yet caring and tender at the same time.

Wesley's hard eyes softened as he took in her beauty. "Hello," was his simple, hesitant greeting.

Darla's eyes flickered to the room behind him. "May I…?"

Realizing what she meant, Wesley snapped to his senses, ushering her in. He didn't issue a formal invitation out of well-ingrained habit, but Darla took his hand gesture in stride as she entered the room.

And as she passed him, Darla's newly heightened senses could pick up the scent of sadness, anger and alcohol permeating from the ex-Watcher; the smell of self-loathing. _It's worse than I thought…_

Taking in his rather haggard appearance, Darla felt her heart begin to ache as she realized just how hurt, how lonely this man really was. "I-I'm sorry if I interrupted…"

"No, no, it's fine," Wes waved her off, pausing for a brief, but painful moment. "I'm fine."

Darla didn't need her skills in reading body language to tell that the truth was a far cry from what Wesley was saying it was. "Are you?" her question came out softly.

Almost immediately, Wesley's shields went up. In the last year or so, he had gotten very good at shielding his heart from danger. It was the only way that he'd been able to survive.

Thus, Wesley's response came out a tad more sarcastic than he had intended. "Is that why you came up here? To play the part of my therapist?"

Her reply was patient, having expected that he wouldn't be quite as receptive to a helping hand as she might have hoped. "I came because I was worried about you."

"I don't need anyone to worry about me." The ex-Watcher's reply was quick, almost cutting. Wes felt that he still had his pride, such as it was, and he was not the sort of man that would willingly seek out help concerning his personal life.

Sensing his anger, Darla tried to salvage the situation, despite being somewhat put off by the British man's attitude. "Okay, fine. Forget the worry. Perhaps we can just talk for a little while—"

Wes abruptly turned away, his voice adopting the same cold tone he had used earlier when he'd rebuffed his friends' sympathy over Lilah. "Darla, it's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do. But if you came here expecting me to open up and talk about my feelings, then I'm afraid you're wasting both your time _and_ mine."

In an instant, Darla's patience abruptly came to an end. She might have developed a kinder, softer side since her return to the mortal plane - but human or not, she had broken the spines of men in half for saying far less than what she was getting here.

"Alright, look," Darla snapped, grabbing his arm tightly and turning the morose Englishman back to see her angry blue-eyed stare. "I didn't come up here to play your shrink. But I'm _sure_ as hell _not_ going to stand here and be your punching bag, either! I could be in a number of different places right now, most of which could use my attention…but instead, I'm here. With you. And while that might not mean much to you...to me, it means a hell of a lot - because I've never been someone who wastes time on pointless endeavors. So, I'd appreciate it if you drop the attitude and act like the gentleman that I know you can be, before this lady ends up _kicking your ass_!"

While noting that Darla's grip was stronger than he remembered it being yesterday, Wesley fought to stifle the strange sense of intimidation that the much-smaller woman suddenly seemed to be radiating. _Odd, definitely..._

"I wasn't aware that a lady used vernacular such as 'kicking ass,'" Wes replied dryly.

The blonde beauty merely snorted. "Yes, well…I said I was a lady, not a duchess."

Neither one flinched as they traded determined, icy glares…until suddenly, both of them began to chuckle at the absurdity of the moment.

Shaking his head, Wesley let appear a faint smile upon his face; which warmed Darla's heart to see, in spite of how he was feeling. "You're right…forgive me, Darla, that was rude of me." He looked down for a moment, his smile dimming. "As you've probably guessed, I'm not exactly having the best time of it tonight."

"Lilah. I know." Wes wondered briefly if it was inappropriate that he found the way she bit her soft, plump lower lip adorable, and the way those flawless blue eyes of hers filled with empathy so…hot. "I can't imagine how hard that must've been for you."

The brief spark of desire within him died down at the memory. Even if he closed his eyes, he could still smell the Dior of Lilah's scent, taunting him, haunting his every waking step…

"Yes, well…after you've decapitated a loved one, generally you don't expect them to come walking back through your front door," Wes absently mused as he found his way into a nearby chair, resting his elbows on his lap as he wrung his hands, his brow furrowed in tortured thought. "And yet, in our world, sometimes it happens."

Realizing that she was on the verge of making progress at last, Darla softly prompted him, "Loved one?"

His eyes flickered toward her as he realized his slip, and Wes quickly tried to cover himself. "Figure of speech."

But Darla was not fooled. "You sure about that? I may not be a psychologist, Wesley…but I know a Freudian slip when I hear one."

The ex-Watcher began to fidget uncomfortably, looking as if he wanted to find a way out of his conversation. "Darla…"

Seeing his obvious discomfort, Darla cursed herself for her lack of subtlety and hastily began to amend her mistake. "No…wait. I'm sorry, that came out wrong - I didn't mean to push, or pry..."

The blonde woman struggled to find the right words. Despite her efforts, this was still a new role for Darla; offering soothing words of comfort to souls in need. She never had to do that…before. She didn't remember much about her mortal life before she'd been Turned, not even her real name - except that it had been cruel and harsh, and there was never time for love or tears…there was only the struggle to survive, no matter the price.

After all, she couldn't remember her mortal parents or the life lessons they must have taught her; so Darla simply wasn't sure how to offer the aid and comfort that Wesley needed now.

_Lying here with you so close to me  
It's hard to fight these feelings  
When it feels so hard to breathe  
Caught up in this moment  
Caught up in your smile_

"Wesley, I'll be honest with you…I don't know the first thing about comforting people. Mostly because I've spent the last four hundred years making people as miserable as possible. And half the time, I have no idea what to do to be a good mother to Connor." Slowly, she pulled up a chair and sat opposite the handsome Englishman. "Still, I can offer this much - I'm a great listener, I won't judge…and tonight, I've got all the time in the world."

Oh, but how Wesley wanted to believe her. How he wished it was that simple. But how to let go of months upon months of isolation that had walled his heart closed, how to overcome his now-natural distrust of people? He just didn't know how.

_I never open up to anyone  
So hard to hold back  
When I'm holding you in my arms_

But one look into Darla's eyes, those soft, tender blue irises of hers, and something around the icy walls of his heart began to melt…and then the pain began to seep out into Wesley's words.

"It's funny…how things start out," the dark-haired man mused as memories of Lilah sprang to life in his mind, his gaze looking far and away to another time and place. "A kiss here, a one-night stand there…you think you can just walk away from it afterwards. That it won't mean anything. And initially, it doesn't. But when you least expect it…"

"…it suddenly means everything," Darla finished for him, somehow understanding him completely.

Wesley's eyes widened in surprise, as he realized that she actually got it. "Yes," he murmured. "Or, at least, it ends up meaning much more than you ever bargained for."

"Wartime romances," Darla replied knowingly. "I've gone through a couple of them myself."

"It was more than that," Wes argued, before he turned away. "Or, at least, that's what I told myself at nights. And, on some days, tried to deny. Because whatever Lilah meant to me, there was always this nagging feeling that I'd made a wrong turn somewhere that had led me into her bed."

"Wesley, I heard it first from the Kalderash clan of gypsies, so long ago: sometimes the heart wants what it wants," Darla sagely offered. "And it's not always the smartest or healthiest choice. But to open up, to take a chance at loving and being loved…isn't it worth a few bumps and bruises along the way, if that'll take you to where you ultimately belong?"

A bitter laugh escaped Wesley's lips. "Ah. I fear that's where our opinions diverge, Darla. Because I've opened up my heart that way a number of times in my life…and each time, it's been ripped out and crushed underneath a woman's heel." The bitterness of the past welled up in his throat. "Virginia, Lilah…Fred…even the woman to whom I lost my virginity, God rest her soul…all of them, just one disappointment after another. And you know as well as I that in wartime, emotions only complicate things…the heart clouds the mind, leaves you vulnerable and irrational. Love only gets in the way of you making the right decisions."

Darla shook her head, refusing to accept that statement. "I don't believe that for a minute. And I don't believe that you believe it, either. Otherwise, why would you have bothered to come back here? Why bother fishing Angel out of the ocean, or fight alongside the others -"

"Because this world, and all the worlds out there, is on the brink of Armageddon," Wesley cut her off at once. "And as far as Angel is concerned, despite personal feelings he's prophesized to play a key role in the final apocalypse. I've done what I've done ever since Justine slashed my throat open because, whatever else I've become nowadays, I once took an oath as a Watcher to protect this sorry planet from that which seeks to destroy it. And oddly, I find that I'm still a man of my word."

"Because you still care," Darla corrected softly, her eyes sad as she beheld the bitter man before her. "You say that you've stopped caring, that you've closed off your heart…but it's still there. You aren't an emotionless robot; anyone can see that. You're hurt because you care, no matter how much you may not want to. Wesley, you're not who you are in spite of your heart…you're who you are _because_ of it."

Wesley snorted, disbelievingly. "And who am I, exactly? A man who couldn't even get his father to tell him that he was proud of him, even once? A Watcher too incompetent to keep his job? A failed demon hunter? A man whose romantic relationships with women never lasted longer than a few months? A man who's at least partly responsible for ruining the life of his best friend's son?"

Abruptly realizing who it was standing across from him as he took in the pained look in her eyes, Wes felt self-loathing bubble up inside him as he hastily apologized. "Oh…Darla, I haven't even told you how sorry I am for—"

"No, don't apologize," Darla shook her head gently, reaching out and taking his hand. "Wesley, it's okay…if what you're looking for is forgiveness with regard to what happened to Connor, I give it to you. Don't get me wrong, every time I think of all the years my son spent in that horrible place along with Holtz…it breaks my heart…"

Gently, she raised his chin to meet her gaze as she looked into his pained blue eyes. "But the fact is, if it hadn't been you doing what you did…it just would have been something else."

Wesley frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The First Evil has been planning to destroy the multiverse for a _very _long time, remember? It needed that Power, Jasmine or whatever her name really was, to give birth to itself in order to steal its body and become corporeal. And to that end, it also needed Connor - or his seed, at the very least. But what are the odds that the First's plan could have remained undiscovered and intact, for all the years it would have taken for my son to grow up in this world? What's the probability that Connor would have been killed before he was capable of fathering children, by Wolfram & Hart if no one else?" Darla asked, as Wesley's eyes went wide. "No. You were duped by Sahjhan, and I can't fault you for that. You were trying to do the right thing."

"For all the good it did," Wes bitterly replied.

"You did what you thought was right," Darla insisted softly.

Her words offered him little consolation. "And it resulted in disaster."

"Everyone fails on occasion. That's just the way the world works," the blonde woman argued, this time a little stronger, but keeping the tone in her voice as gentle as she could. "All we can do afterwards is try and make up for it. And you _are_. Everyone can see that."

Wesley's eyes flashed in anger. "I don't want pity."

"Don't mistake love for pity. There's a big difference," Darla replied patiently. "What your friends - your _family_ - feel for you right now, it's not pity. It's _love_. It's worry. And, maybe even a little admiration."

As much as Darla's gentle words soothed the ache in his chest, they also wounded Wesley, given his inner demons were whispering in his head that it was all lies. That he was still a failure, as pathetic as his father and the Council always believed him to be.

"Admiration, Darla?" Wes then gestured to himself. "I'm sullen, alone, a borderline alcoholic and I hunt demons by dealing with unsavory individuals on a daily basis in a constant game of compromise…I'm hardly a shining example of all things good and pure, of someone to admire."

Darla's grip around his hand gently squeezed tighter, her eyes still shining with unwavering faith in him - and for the life of him, Wes just couldn't understand why she was still here. What was it that she saw that he didn't?

"You see someone who's sullen and alone, but I see a man who carries on despite his mistakes, trying his damndest to do the right thing; no matter how much he hurts inside. You see a broken man, but I see a man with a broken heart, who nonetheless still has enough strength to fight for what he believes in. I've been alive a long time, Wesley. And I learned how to be a pretty good read on who people really are, even when they can't see it. You can deny it all you want, but it doesn't change the truth. No matter how much you try to hide it, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, I see you for who you are - a hero."

At that, Darla reached out and softly began to trace the rough and mangled flesh of his throat where the scar lay embedded. And he'd be damned if he couldn't feel the goosebumps that her soft touch gave him.

"And you're a good man. You may think you're alone, Wesley…but you're not. Not if you don't want to be…not if you let someone in."

_But we don't need to rush this  
Let's just take it slow_

Wes felt the breath in his throat catch once more at the way Darla's blue-grey eyes looked at him, her hands slowly reaching up to either side of his face.

"Just trust me." Her voice was a soft caress, as gentle as any kiss. "I won't do anything you don't want to…"

And before Wesley knew it, his mouth tingled with the sensation of Darla's soft lips once more. Their kiss slowly became more passionate, more heated…

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight  
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright  
I don't want to mess this thing up  
I don't want to push too far  
Just a shot in the dark that you just might  
be the one I've been waiting for my whole life  
So baby I'm alright with just a kiss goodnight_

…until Wes broke it off, standing up abruptly and walking away from her, towards a nearby window, leaving Darla confused and somewhat hurt.

Wesley fought to catch his breath, a sense of shame manifesting in his psyche. "Darla…wait…we shouldn't be doing this…"

Darla's eyes betrayed her confusion. "Why not?"

For someone literate in twelve languages and more than two hundred demonic dialects, Wesley found the words hard to come by. "It's not that I don't want to…God knows I do, if you only knew how much…"

Darla licked her lips, and she could still taste the tang of his salt on her mouth. "I think I can guess…"

_I know that if we give this a little time  
it'll only bring us closer to the love we wanna find  
It's never felt so real  
No it's never felt so right_

Wesley looked away again, unexpectedly ashamed of himself. "I just…I don't think this is a good idea. If we don't stop now, we'll regret this…if not now, then, in the morning."

At once the British man's words pushed Darla's buttons the wrong way, as she was reminded of how rich men had treated her disdainfully way back as a 17th century prostitute. "What are you saying, Wesley? That you won't respect me in the morning, should if I give you my body tonight?"

Surprised by her question, Wesley immediately frowned. "What? No! No, of course not, I wouldn't do that. It's just, this isn't the right time for...that."

"Then when _is_ the right time, Wesley? In three weeks? If we even have that long?" Darla argued.

"That's part of it, yes…but it's more than that. It's…I mean…look at me, Darla. I'm barely even sober right now, and I'm just so…I don't want to use you, just to make myself feel better. I'm not looking for another Lilah. You deserve better than that…you don't need that from me."

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight  
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright  
I don't want to mess this thing up  
I don't want to push too far  
Just a shot in the dark that you just might  
be the one I've been waiting for my whole life  
So baby I'm alright with just a kiss goodnight_

A sense of understanding and acceptance filled her, banishing the recent negative emotions. Slowly, Darla stood up and headed towards him, crossing the distance between them.

"I'm not Lilah, Wesley. I'm not looking to use you, or to be your rebound girl. I'm here for no more and no less reason than that I want to be. And I'm not here as a friend, or as Connor's mother, or whatever other role other people would define me as having. Right now, I'm just a woman who's putting herself out there - risking some personal humiliation, by the way - in the hopes that a man she finds to be good, and kind, and…irresistible…would want her company for a little while."

_No I don't want to say goodnight  
I know it's time to leave but you'll be in my dreams…  
_

The sad gaze in Wesley's eyes spoke volumes concerning his hesitation, his reluctance to trust her, his unwillingness to let himself be vulnerable in such a way once more. Again, Darla took his hand in hers, trying to convince him of what truly lay in her heart at the moment.

_Tonight…  
_

"You're scared of letting me in. I get that. But you don't have to be. Wesley, please…let go of the past. I have," Darla promised him, reaching up again to touch his scratchy, shadowed and handsome face. "Please, take a chance…just this once…and I promise—I'll do the exact same thing."

_Tonight…_

Despite everything he believed, despite the logic in his brain, Darla's words, her scent, those oh-so-convincing eyes and persuasive lips had Wes teetering on the brink. He was ready and somehow _willing _to believe her. "Darla, I—"

_Tonight…_

"Life is risk." Her voice was even softer, as Darla cut off the man's half-hearted protests. Her eyes met his in a poignant, deep stare. "But when it comes to love, the risk is worth winning something so infinitely precious. Wesley, trust me…I want this. And I know you do, too."

And so, briefly cursing himself for being all kinds of a fool, Wesley let go of all his hang-ups…and he fell. Fell into her lips, her eyes, her arms, the sweet nape of her neck. Into the fragrance of jasmine and something pure, something cleaner than he could ever hope to be, that permeated from every inch of her being.

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight  
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright  
I don't want to mess this thing up  
I don't want to push too far_

And as Darla's tongue slid into his mouth, her legs suddenly wrapping around him as their moans and sighs melded together in a chorus that, to his ears, was more vivid and awe-inspiring than even Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons', all of Wesley's logical arguments, his doubts, and his issues were kicked out the window and plummeted to the streets below.

This was insanity, but Wesley didn't want to think about it. Sheer madness, but he just didn't care. All thoughts of Lindsey and Angel and even Connor were forgotten; there was only the beautiful blonde woman in his arms.

_Just a shot in the dark that you just might  
be the one I've been waiting for my whole life  
So baby I'm alright…_

All that mattered now…as Darla tore off his shirt in a haste, and his nimble hands made quick work of her blue jeans before they smoothly slid off the straps of the beige satin bra covering her beautiful bare breasts, reveling in the warmth of her mouth, savoring the sweet taste of her lips, feeling skin softer than any fine silk he had ever touched as they somehow ended up in his bed…was this moment.

_Yes, Darla…oh dear God, I __**do**_ _want this. Just for tonight…let me lose myself in you. Let me believe in something again. Just for tonight…let me dream I can be more…let me forget. Let me live. Let me love._

The ancient rhythm between two human bodies began, and as they let wave after wave of passion sweep over them in a sea of limbs, lips and heat, just for a moment…he did.

After all the failures, all the mistakes, and the broken hearts and shattered friendships and disappointments during the last twelve months that his thirty-odd years of life was mired in darkness, for the first time in what felt like forever…Wesley Wyndham-Pryce could see the light.

For the first time since Connor's kidnapping…he could dare to hope. Dare to dream.

And he did that night. He dreamt of love.

He dreamt of Darla.

_Ooh, let's do this right, just a kiss goodnight_

_With a kiss goodnight_

_A kiss goodnight…_

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel - Angel's private office**

**Now**

* * *

Timing is a funny thing. Being at the right place and the right time can mean an incredible change for your entire life…and the exact same thing could be said about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, of course.

It hadn't been long since Buffy had left, and Angel had begun to try and scribble down some of the strange glyphs and symbols hardwired into his brain by Jasmine. But try as he might to find some kind of hidden clue that could be key in defeating the First, the Irish-born vampire's normally focused mind could not stop thinking about what had happened to Robin Wood's mother.

Guilt had begun to plague and haunt him, almost as badly as if he had done the deed himself. Despite Buffy's assurances that he'd had nothing to do with it, he knew better.

After all - it was all because of him (or Angelus, whatever), that Spike had become so obsessed with hunting Slayers in the first place. Angel…Angelus…had known exactly what he was doing when he'd told his thrill-seeking, violent Grandchilde about the Chosen Ones when they were stuck at the bottom of that God-forsaken mineshaft in Yorkshire, back in 1888.

It had been the fifth time that the Whirlwind had been forced to flee an angry mob back then, all because Spike - as he had taken to calling himself - had been making it a point to drive rusty railroad spikes into the heads of his victims before he drank them dry; and then, leave the bodies out in public for all to see…instead of following the careful disposal procedures that Angelus and Darla had explicitly laid out for them in order to avoid detection by the human rabble.

While Drusilla had followed their orders like a good girl, William the Bloody had had other ideas, wanting to revel in his newfound power and immortality in a way he never could - not when he was just poor old simpering William Pratt.

Not surprisingly, Spike's antics had drawn a firestorm of attention from the newspapers and police wherever they went; the fool had even left eyewitnesses alive for police to draw sketches from, Angel recalled, resulting in him and his makeshift coven having to flee. Barely escaping with their lives in London, before they'd ended up hiding in Yorkshire. Not exactly the nicest place in the world, too, or so Angelus had thought at the time.

It was at that point that Angelus decided that Spike had become a liability and needed to be disposed of, before he got them all killed. It had been...tempting...to simply stake him in that mineshaft, but the Scourge of Europe hadn't wanted to deal with his demented daughter's wails and screams afterwards. So he'd figured that 'casually' throwing the story of the Slayer in front of Spike would serve that end; knowing the less-than-a-decade-year-old British vampire well enough to realize that, being an adrenaline junkie, William wouldn't be able to resist a tussle with the Chosen One.

Angelus, already having achieved legendary status among the ranks of the underworld, knew better than to get involved in such a foolish hunt. But for Spike, the temptation would be too much, and would lead him right onto the business end of a stake and out of the elder vampire's life for good.

Of course, Angelus had never anticipated that William would actually survive for another entire decade without encountering the Chosen One, or that he'd be able to kill her around the time of the Boxer Rebellion. Anyway, by then, Angelus-with-a-soul (even after two years, he hadn't quite become 'Angel' yet) had no longer cared about whether Spike lived or died, given his new problems of crushing remorse and agony for all of his crimes.

Giving up on the whole Jasmine thing, it wasn't long before Angel found himself perusing the online archives of New York newspapers, searching for stories about Nikki Wood. The 1977 headlines summarized the story fairly well: 'Young Mother Murdered in Subway Car.' 'No Leads in Subway Slaying, Police Say.' 'Police Offer $5,000 Reward for Info on Mother's Murder.'

Angel had to pause for a moment as he found a tabloid site, and he saw a quite _gruesome_ picture of Nikki Wood; her eyes wide in death, staring lifelessly at nothing while the CSI cops secured the murder scene. The first thing that struck him about the black Slayer was how _young_ she was…barely in her early twenties, so the vampire figured she must have given birth to her son as a teenager. Angel silently admitted to himself that he had rarely noticed, before Sunnydale, exactly how young these fierce and powerful young warriors were.

And as much as he tried to block it out, the thought refused to be silenced in Angel's mind - _this girl could have been Buffy._

And it wasn't for lack of trying, either; Angel could easily remember how obsessed and driven Spike had been to murder the blonde Chosen One when he'd first burst onto the Sunnydale scene five, nearly six years ago. It was all Spike could think about, even when he was temporarily crippled; caring nothing for the fact that Buffy had had a mother and a sister and friends and people who loved her, whose entire worlds revolved around her.

All she was to Spike then was another potential Slayer notch on his belt, another way to cement his already-terrible legacy.

It was part of the game, Angel knew that, the eternal deadly dance between Slayers and vampires; but when it came to Buffy, it wasn't a game, it was personal. No. It was war…

All at once, with vivid and unwanted detail, he could visualize Spike throwing Buffy against the wall of her bathroom. His sweet, trusting Buffy…_bleeding and helpless and at the mercy of a loathsome creature that, out of misery and loneliness, she had begun to trust, had allowed to touch the temple that was her body; only to have her trust betrayed in the most vile and horrible of ways. Sobbing and begging him for mercy, a concept completely foreign to Spike as he clawed at her robe, at her sun-kissed skin, grunting in animalistic pleasure as he forced his way inside her as she screamed in teary-eyed agony…_

In a flash, an enraged Angel growled in fury as his temper hit boiling point, standing abruptly and lifting over the heavy desk in his office, sending papers, his computer, books, and all matter of office minutia scattering all over the floor.

Angrily pacing the room, hands opening and closing in repeated, frustrated fashion, it was all Angel could do not to storm out and find Spike, and then beat him to within an inch of his life; make him beg for mercy the way that Buffy must have begged him, before he tore his head off inch-by-agonizing-inch and left only the ashes behind.

_No. Damn it, I gave her my word. If I don't keep it, Buffy will never be able to truly trust me again. _Shaking his head, Angel knew that he had to calm down. Somehow, some way.

Stewing in anger at this point was only going to build up the rage to the point where he could no longer control himself; he had made Buffy a promise about not deliberately going after Spike, and, as much as it pained him, Angel was not the sort of man who would deliberately break his promise. His old-fashioned sense of honor would not allow it…no matter how much Spike deserved to strung over a vat of boiling oil, and then dunked into it…

Deciding that he needed another distraction, Angel began to head upstairs to the library. Maybe a little quiet reading time could soothe the savage beast within…

* * *

…unfortunately, Spike had been having exactly the same chain of thought.

After finishing off his beer, Spike's mind had been consumed with thoughts over Faith's ultimatum. Namely, choosing between her and Buffy.

Between Buffy and Faith. Blonde and brunette. Hot chick with a business-first attitude to life versus hot chick with the devil-may-care spirit modeled after his own undead heart.

Both were challenges. Both had bodies to die for. Both were great kissers. And both had enough baggage that, while time-consuming, could at least keep his interest as he figured things out with them.

Add that to the drama of his insane Sire/ex-center-of-his-entire-existence, and it was all so very, very confusing for him…

…and at the same time, Spike's curiosity was piqued regarding one other thing Faith had mentioned - this prophecy about Angel. This Shampoo nonsense, or whatever it was she'd called it. What was all that about?

Was it specifically about Angel? Or was it about any vampire-with-a-soul…say, someone like him? A prophecy about a vampire with a soul playing a key role in the apocalypse…_Well, that would explain a lot_, Spike thought.

All this time, since winning his soul back, he couldn't help but to wonder what all of it meant; if there was something meant for him that went beyond Buffy. After all, Spike had already privately acknowledged that one day, she would be gone from this earth for good. And he had no intention of turning Buffy into a vampire one day, and getting Red to restore her soul so they could spend eternity together.

That no-longer-timid little witch would almost certainly flay all the skin from his body and then fry him, first.

So, after Buffy was gone, then what? What was he supposed to do afterwards, with this burning spark in his chest, twisting and searing within him? Turn into a broody ponce like Angel, whining and crying about his past all the time, for all the good it would do? Walk forever between the worlds of demon and man, but never really belonging to either one?

Or was there some other reason for it? Spike asked himself, did he have a purpose beyond that? Could he make himself count for something, and for once, have the one thing he had been lacking in 123 years of his immortal life - direction?

There was only one way to find out…hit the books.

Which was how Spike found himself in the library of the Hyperion Hotel, rummaging through several stacks of books, each one carelessly discarded in various places on the floor. Research wasn't really his area of expertise, and for a moment, Spike wished he had someone with a little more book savvy along with him…Dawn or Giles, for example. Hell, he'd even settle for Dalton, sniveling little cockroach that he was.

All he could think of was searching for books on prophecies, and boy, was that ever a collection - 'Prophecies', 'Visions and Clairvoyant Dreams', 'Ducard's Compendium of Foretold Prophecies', 'The Predictions of Nostradamus', and…how bloody charming...'Prophecies for Dummies'. _Yup, it's a right educational experience, this place is. _

At that moment, Lorne - decked out in purple pajamas and a rather silly looking night cap, in Spike's view - happened to wander through the door of the library, the anagogic demon distracted by the sight of the vampire on his way to his hotel room.

"Hey there, Slim," Lorne greeted in his typically friendly fashion. "Kinda late to be hitting the books, isn't it?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, great. One of the Big Pouf's little band of Care Bears. Which one are you again - Tacky Bear?"

Lorne merely shrugged off the barb; he'd been called much worse during his time on Earth…and even worse than that by his own mother. "Hey, let's dial it down a notch, shall we? Calm down, Billy Boy, I'm not gonna narc you out to the Angel-cake about your need to play story time."

The peroxide-blonde vampire grimaced at the nickname, realizing that it was another play on that Billy Idol crap that he'd been getting ever since that wanker became famous in the 1980s - by stealing his look. "Oh, ha ha, I get it, the Billy Idol thing, right? For the record, I don't do Billy Idol; that tosser does _me_! The ponce stole my bloody look back when I was in New York decades ago; but who got to cash in and make millions out of it? He did - ought to sue the ruddy bastard for copyright infringement!"

"If you say so, Spikester," Lorne replied teasingly. "So, whatcha doin'?"

"Well, if you hafta know, tryin' to figure out something about a destiny," Spike started to say, before he realized that, as a card-carrying member of Team Angel, Lorne might already have the inside scoop on the situation. "Oy, Jolly Green; you ride with Angel on occasion, right?"

"Indeed, I do," Lorne replied, somewhat proudly.

"Right then, what's the story on this prophecy 'bout the big wanker? That…Shawshank whatsit about Angel becomin' a real boy, after he cashes in all his chips for the Big Swingies hanging out Up There?"

Lorne frowned for a moment, before he caught up with Spike's colorful way of expressing himself. "Ahh, you mean the Shanshu prophecy. Now that's a heck of a tale, my friend. Vampire with a soul, cursed to atone only to find his purpose, fighting for the fate of the world and regaining his humanity after the final apocalypse." He chuckled in mirth. "Hollywood couldn't come up with anything better. I know; I mean, I actually paid to see 'Battlefield Earth.'"

Lorne winced in distaste before adding, "But in my defense, that was after one Seabreeze too many and a busy night, so…"

"Yeah, thanks for the critique, Siskel, but I'm not looking for what's hot on the big screen this week," Spike impatiently snapped. "The prophecy. What do ya know about it?"

"Well, beyond that…not much, I'm afraid," Lorne shrugged. "That's Wesley's department; apparently he's studied that scroll top to bottom. You could try asking him in the morning, if he's done with giving Angel a run for his money for this year's 'Brooder's Cup' award."

Spike cursed his luck; figures that he'd get the wrong lackey for the job. "Bloody priceless."

Lorne regarded him with slight suspicion. "Gotta ask, Blondike Bar, just out of curiosity; what's gotten you all interested in that prophecy all of a sudden?"

Spike gestured to the books briefly, before guardedly replying, "Just something I heard, is all."

"Well," Lorne said as he leaned lazily against one of the book case. "Any chance I might be able to help?"

Spike snorted, more to himself than his demon companion. "Unless you have the mojo needed to fuse two incredible girls into the perfect one, then odds are…you can't."

"Ah, I see," Lorne replied knowingly. "Look's like William the Bloody needs a visit from the Love Doctor."

The vampire shrugged. These were the kinds of problems that one would normally talk to friends about; which would be fine, if he actually had any. Well, apart from Dawn, of course. Still, he couldn't talk to the Slayer's little sister about this, even if he did need to talk to someone… sadly, Green Horn over here was the only one around right now.

"Is it that obvious?" Spike frowned.

"Oh, it's splattered all over your aura, amigo," Lorne smirked. "You've got girl trouble like Angel's got reflection issues."

"It's just…it's all buggered up and complicated, you know?" Spike began, throwing up his hands in the air and finally getting it all off his chest. "I mean, you think you got it all figured out, when you meet someone, and they drive you crazy, and you just want to kill 'em most of the time, but then you're head's so bloody filled with her that you can't see straight, and then you change, you try to change and nothin's ever good enough for the bird, even when the scarabs are nesting in your skull for trying to win back your damn soul...

"And then, for a while, things start changing, she holds your hand and doesn't think that you're a disgusting piece of sludge, she starts saying that she believes in you even when you're running out of places to hide the bodies. But of course, she goes running back to her bloody first time the second the stupid sod can't tie his shoelaces together, and then, out of nowhere, here comes the kind of girl you could see something real happening with. The kind that can make you laugh, piss you off, and get you hot at the same time, the type of bird that can help you fly if you just treat her right, you know?

"And now, you're in a right mess, you are, because she wants you to choose! And how the hell do you choose? On the one hand, the first bird's all you've wanted, she's the only damn thing that's ever made sense, but on the other hand, there's the second bird, and she just makes you feel like…like you might be good enough, for once. Like you can actually fit in somewhere without having to feel like you're in the Pouf's shadow all the damn time, and just fit…_me_, right? And you just know that whatever happens, you're just gonna screw it all up anyway, because that's just how your soddin' luck goes, and it's all going straight to hell! ARGH! DAMN IT!"

Lorne regarded the angry and frustrated vampire with a quizzical eyebrow. "Don't be coy, pal; tell me what's really on your mind," the Pylean demon joked good-naturedly.

His shoulders slumping for a moment, Spike's face revealed his confusion. "All my life, mate, I've never had any kind of plan. Never needed one, since the night Dru turned me. Just played it by ear, lived for the moment. Never feared the consequences. Figured it all out along the way, and it all pretty much turned out alright. But now…now for the first time, I've got no idea what to do…and I'll be damned if I've ever been more scared than I am now."

Taking pity on his undead companion, Lorne offered, "Well, ain't that the story of growing up. Heard that one a lot in my time, bubba. But if there's one thing you pick up serving Vodka martinis, tequila shots and blood spritzers to businessmen, vampires and three-faced Qu'Varol demons over the years, it's this - there's nothing scarier than love. There's no bigger risk, and nothing even remotely close to hurting you more. The only way to really figure it out…is to roll the dice. Take your chances one way or the other, even if you have to flip a coin if you can't make up your mind who your heart belongs to. Worse case scenario, you might learn something about yourself. And, hey, every now and then…maybe the bones will roll in your favor."

Mulling over the demon's words, Spike gave voice to the question at the heart of the matter. "I'm just so damn sick of feeling like this, mate. I'd just like to know…where I belong. What I'm supposed to do." He shook his head. "Who I am."

Lorne could only nod in empathy at the British vampire's confusion.

"I'll tell you who you are," came a low, cold, angry voice, drawing Spike and Lorne's surprised gaze to the door…

…where stood a furious and eerily still Angel, his large frame engulfing the doorway.

His brown eyes, Spike noticed as he felt himself tense defensively, looked calm at first glance…but that was only on the surface. All it took was a look - a real look - to see how they held a deadly, raging fury that was both as cold as death and as searing as hellfire at the same time.

The words Angel spoke next were so calm, so collected, but tinged with just enough cruel malice so that there was no doubt of how serious he was:

"You're a dead man."

* * *

_TBC…_

* * *

**Next: C'mon…you know it had to be done. The confrontation you've all been waiting for…**

**Angel. Vs. Spike.**

**Two Vampires. Only One Winner.**

**Place Your Bets!**

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Well, that's a wrap! Be sure to check out the story next month for what happens next. And like me on Facebook, send me an PM, and reviews? YES! YES! YES! (please?) lol

See ya!

Jean-theGuardian


	29. Part 27 Grudge Match

A/N: Suki, I deleted your comment because I found it unnecessarily rude. I don't mind criticism, but if you're going to be nasty, then I don't want to hear it. If you lack the maturity to keep other people's feelings in consideration, then you don't deserve to leave a review. If you want to try again nicely, you are more than welcome.

Aside from that, hey there, people! Special shout out to Starway Man, holding it down in the Land Down Under; you're the man, Theo! And a special thanks to everyone who reviewed, including angelplusbuffyequals4ever, BloodyTink, Amanda, neoearthqueen30, Angellufy, valforeverrblue, Alkeni, Geoff, spyagent001, Dark Vizard447, BrucasBangelBrylan, EmeraldWings90, xxdawnbreakerxx, David Fishwick, and the lovely Ashes at Midnight. You guys rock!

Just saw the Avengers last week, from Joss Whedon. EPIC MOVIE! Well worth the 4-year wait. I highly recommend anyone who hasn't seen it to catch it in theatres. Don't be a Puny God! Lol

And there are a few funny Buffy-related things in that movie: for example, Jeremy Renner, who played Hawkeye, played the role of the vampire Penn in the Angel episode 'Somnambulist.' And, huge shocker, Alexis Denisoff, aka Wesley, plays one of the evil aliens that Loki conspired with. Didn't see that coming, huh? I anxiously await the sequel! Which was your favorite Avenger? Favorite moment in the movie?

Well, enough of that. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Fanfiction Fight Night! In one corner, from London, England, weighing in at 165 pounds, the Ruler of Railroad Spikes, the London Mauler, the Big Bad himself, Spike! And in the other corner, from Galway, Ireland, weighing in at 180 pounds, the Champion of Los Angeles, the Hollywood Hammer, the Terror of Tinseltown…Angel!

So step right up, grab your seats, grab a tuna sandwich and place your bets, because once again, here comes the latest chapter of…

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**Bring Me To Life — A Buffy The Vampire Slayer Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 27 ****—** Grudge Match

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**Remington Estate ****— **London, England

**May, 1880**

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"_Frankly, Father, **thine** eyes offend **me**."_

_William couldn't help but to laugh at the tone of mirth, and the ironic choice of words, in the arrogant, crowing voice of Angelus**—**his icy, leering vampire face in full view**—** as the elder vampire stood at the center of the altar before the horrified groom, bride and nearly a hundred guests in the lavish banquet hall of the mansion, right in the middle of the wedding ceremony. _

_Within his powerful, vise-like grip, oozing like a putrid peach…or a rotted melon…was the bloody head of the elderly priest presiding over the ceremony, eyes dangling out of his sockets, tongue lolling grotesquely from his mouth as blood flowed freely from every cavity in the old man's cranium. _

_The two vampires had heard about the wedding the night before, some rich socialite named Warren Remington was to marry a well-to-do and attractive daughter of a duke in what was to be London's premiere event of the year. An event filled with happy guests, gay music, a marvelous banquet and a wonderful time for all. A truly happy day…_

…_so naturally, Angelus couldn't help but to attend the festivities. To give the happy couple his 'best wishes...in his own special way, of course. He'd decided to take William with him as well. It'd be a good opportunity to see just what Dru's new Childe was really made of, and if he was worthy of becoming a member of the infamous Whirlwind._

_The shocked priest's dying moans only served to further Angelus's amusement before he effortlessly tore the holy man's head off of his shoulders. Then, the vampire turned and hurled the bloody skull with deadly speed at one of the four armed guards. The sentry's head immediately fractured on impact as he slumped dead to the floor, his brain pierced by his own skull bone fragments. _

_As another frightened nearby guard fumbled for his rifle, William swiftly batted the gun away from the guard, sneering at the mortal's wide-eyed terror—which was due to the sight of his own, terrifying, demonic visage._

"_Not exactly Queen Victoria's personal guard, are ya, mate?" William cruelly taunted, before he easily tore out the windpipe of the guard with glee, the victim's blood spraying out in a horrid jet of crimson._

_As the warm, sticky, coppery blood covered his ridges while the women shrieked in sheer terror and the men stared aghast in disbelief, the young vampire, basking fully in the pure fear he had inspired as the room reeked of salty human fright, let out a wild, joyful laugh the howl of a lunatic before he grabbed the discarded rifle and eagerly, recklessly bludgeoned some of the nearby noblemen who dared to try and stop him. _

_As Angelus casually snapped the necks of the other two guards while the guests trampled over themselves to flee through the doors which they found, to their horror, were bolted shut from the outside, courtesy of their captors he had to pause for a moment as he gazed upon his newest "family member" in action. Seldom had it been during his 127 years as a vampire that the Scourge of Europe had seen a fledgling display such a cruel, sadistic nature the way that William was doing so._

_The rage, the berserker-like wildness, the sheer delight in his savage brutishness. It was vile, it was perverse, it was barbaric, it was…_

_**It's perfect**, Angelus realized with a pleased grin. _

_Ever the twisted mastermind that he had evolved into over the past century, Angelus knew that he had mastered no, perfected the art of killing, the art of the complete destruction of a human being. Originally, he had not given any thought to the idea of taking in an apprentice or a protégé; the thought of anyone else taking the knowledge or sharing the legacy of evil that he had so proudly cultivated for himself had been an utterly abhorrent thought to him. _

_However, after his near brushes with final death as a result of Holtz's relentless pursuit of he and Darla decades before, Angelus had to admit that he had come painstakingly close to losing his life several times at the hands of that bothersome vampire hunter. And it would have been such a shame, too, to die before he could show the world the full extent of his cruelty, the true nature of what evil…true evil…really was. No, Angelus couldn't have that; he had to make sure that somehow, even in final death should it ever claim him the dark legend of the Scourge of Europe would live on forever._

_With that mindset in place, Angelus had begun to seek a student, a willing disciple that he could mold, cull and groom into his own terrifying image someone whose malice, brutality and evil could almost match…though never surpass…his own. _

_He remembered Darla telling him that he was being silly, that no one could come close to matching the kind of fear Angelus inspired. _

_**Such a creature doesn't exist, dear boy**, Darla had told him appraisingly in bed after a night of passion in the Parisian home of a French Marquise they had murdered, along with his family and all their servants. **No one could ever match your finesse, your skill, your terribly brilliant imagination. You're the cream of the crop, Angelus; you have no rival. You're one of a kind.**_

_There was a time he'd thought so as well, but no longer. Angelus was determined to show her otherwise. That he could turn anything and anyone into a monster worthy of remembrance; that all it took to unleash the darkness within another was just the right push in all the right places._

_For a while, he'd had high hopes for Penn, thinking that he had found a pupil and kindred spirit in a Puritan youth whose father had been as oppressive and overbearing as Liam's own father was. But while the younger vampire was eager, cruel and certainly vicious, a disappointed Angelus had found that his Childe simply lacked the imagination, that flair for the creative that separated being a mere vampire from being a true and definitive monster. _

_Much to Angelus's disgust, Penn had even taken to mimicking some of his Sire's own signature calling cards, such as carving crosses into the skin of his victims; completely lacking in originality, which was the exact opposite of what Angelus had been looking for in an heir. Plus, Darla found his first Childe irritating and rather boring, and the way she had caught him eyeing her lustily on occasion when they traveled together had gotten on both Angelus's and his Sire's nerves. _

_**Either you send that little troll as far away from us as possible, or I'll personally send him to hell in the bat of an eyelash**, Darla had warned one night back in 1799. This had made Angelus come to the decision to send Penn off on what he called a 'trial by fire commanding Penn to go off alone into the world, master his craft and find him a century later in Venice so that Angelus could determine what his pupil had learned. _

_Frankly, Angelus wasn't expecting Penn to last fifty years, and even that was being optimistic. But ever the obedient student, Penn had agreed to the orders without question, which only proved further to Angelus that the former Puritan was not the one he was looking for. _

_Angelus had discounted Drusilla as serving for that purpose, as well; Dru was less of a protégée and more of a personal trophy, his finest work ever in the complete and utter ruination of a human being: something to be displayed to the world like Michelangelo's 'David'. Besides, she lacked the mental faculties and focus to be a true heir to Angelus's legacy of evil. _

_But in this William, in what Angelus had thought was just a damned idiot when he had staggered into the undead coven's way a few months ago, he saw a spark of…something. It was dark and terrible and foul…small and faint for a fledgling, but still, the possibilities for something more were still there. _

_Sure, the boy was a little clumsy and lacked finesse, but Angelus was confident that he could overcome that. All William needed was time and a little work, and maybe...just maybe…Angelus would have the worthy heir to his legacy that he'd been looking for, all this time. _

"_I'd watch yer flank now, William," Angelus called out casually, as he saw the groom's best man rise to his feet. "I do believe the best man is trying to prove why he's fit for the title."_

_Sensing the man attempt to grab him from behind, William whirled around with a brutal backhand swipe, knocking the best man nearly senseless as he seized the human's head, bringing him face to face with his own ridged visage._

"_What's a-matter, mate? Not feeling too good?" the blonde vampire taunted, a dark gleam in his blue eyes. "Not to worry: sooner or later, things just have a way of…turning right round—"_

_And with that, in one powerful motion, William actually twisted the best man's head around a full one hundred and eighty degrees, the eyes rolling back in the sockets of his surprised face, now visible for the horrified bride, groom and guests to see._

"..._kinda like that," William finished, shoving the corpse away. _

_Another man tried his luck, picking up a sharp metallic object**— **a spike-shaped heirloom **—** and he charged at William with a loud bellow. But the vampire merely laughed in amusement before he blocked the blow, wrenched the weapon out of the man's hand…_

…_and, swiftly and violently, William thrust the spike upwards through the soft undertissue of the man's chin and through the top of his head, the bloody, pointy end protruding upwards in an obscene display of brutality. As the man dropped dead to the floor amid more screams, William shivered at the adrenaline pumping through his system as a result of his act, surprised at how good it felt. _

_How it felt sort of…**right**, somehow. _

_Even Angelus, an eyebrow cocked in surprise, had to admit that what William had just done was outright barbaric almost unthinkable. The older vampire was impressed…and suddenly, a little threatened as well. Angelus knew he couldn't just let some fledgling steal his thunder like this; he had a reputation to uphold, after all._

_His devious eyes scanning the room quickly, he settled almost immediately on Warren Remington, bravely shielding his terrified bride behind him while he held out a cross to keep Angelus at bay. _

"_Back, you foul creature!" Remington shouted, though his arm was shaking in fear. "Get out of my house! You'll not harm my beloved!"_

_The cold, pitiless chuckle Angelus replied with made his cowering bride recoil further in fright. _

"_Now, that's just right rude of ye, Mr. Remington," Angelus smoothly answered in his thick, lilting Irish brogue as he slowly stalked towards the married couple, now backed into a corner. "We came a long way to wish you and yer…lovely bride…" His dark soulless eyes, devoid of any trace of compassion or mercy, turned and glinted lustily at the terrified woman. "…all the best on this happiest of days. But, frankly, friend, I find yer hospitality to be lacking, somewhat. Of course, if it's lessons in etiquette ye need_—_"_

_With a sudden and predatory maneuver, Angelus batted the cross out of Remington's hands like a child with a toy, before grabbing his arm and yanking the man into a choke-hold, his arm gripped by Angelus's other hand. _

_All Remington could do was stare in utter helplessness at his teary-eyed bride, who then begged for Angelus to spare her husband._

"…_I'd be more 'n happy to give ye a hand," Angelus hissed. "Or rather, just take it."_

"_No, noooaaaAAAHHH!" came the agonized scream of the wealthy socialite…while Angelus swiftly ripped Remington's arm off of his body, blood splashing all over the bride's white dress while she shrieked in terrified horror._

_Taking a moment to drink from the severed arm as if it were a chalice of the finest wine, the dark-haired Irish vampire smirked wickedly as he threw the bleeding and screaming Warren Remington to the ground…just before he began savagely battering the groom over the head and face with his own bloody appendage. _

_Pausing midway through drinking the pretty maid of honor dry, William looked up and marveled at the sheer sadism that his Grandsire displayed. Beating the groom to death with his own arm right in front of his blushing bride…now that was sick, William admitted to himself, before he laughed in hysterics at the irony. He was really starting to like Angelus; sure, he was a tad too serious for William's newfound tastes, but he'd be damned if he didn't admit that he liked watching the old man at work. _

_In its own morbid way, it was beautiful to watch. If killing was an art form, then Angelus was the da Vinci of the underworld. _

_The rest of the massacre didn't last much longer; the rest of the guests were dead a few minutes later, the hall's walls splattered with blood, fingernails, body parts and other bodily wastes. Eventually, William eventually made his way over to the other side of the room, as Angelus had grown tired of whacking the bloody skull that belonged to the now-dead groom. Jovially, the young vampire patted his Grandsire on the back in approval. _

"_Well, now…I heard of beating some sense into people, but you take things right literally, don't ya, mate?" William laughed, shifting back into his human face. "Oh, God, I haven't had this much fun since…oh, who am I kidding? I've **never** had this much fun! I swear, you really are something, Angelus; a bloke could learn a thing or two from hanging with you." _

_With a chuckle, Angelus squeezed William's shoulder as he casually tossed the limb away. "Me? What about you, lad? Fresh out of the ground, and already raising hell. And here I had you Englishmen as nothing but a bunch o' daffodils, not a drop of fighting spirit in the lot of ya; but it hasn't been the first time I've been wrong. Loved the thing with that...spike thing...goin' right through that last one's head. Ingenious, really." _

"_Yeah? You really think so?" William beamed in unexpected pride, as if he was an aspiring pianist being told by Mozart that he had talent. _

"_Aye_—_'twas amazing, lad," Angelus agreed, nodding in approval as his own features regressed back into human form. "Oughta think about holding onto that move. Could even be a signature for ye."_

_The whimpering of the grieving bride drew their attention. _

_Sarcastically, William gestured to her as he addressed Angelus. "Gee, wonder what ruffled this bird's feathers. You'd think her bloody best friend just died!"_

"_Well, if that weren't her dearly departed husband I sent ta sing with the angels, with all the people that came, I'm sure we probably got **that** one, too, at some point," Angelus joked, which drew cruel and jovial laughter from the two soulless demons while the traumatized woman began to slip into a state of shocked insanity._

_William suddenly grew a touch serious, his smile still on his face. "Thanks for the invite, Angelus. I mean it." A pseudo-sigh fell from his undead lips. "You know growing up, when I was human, I never really had any friends. Always too busy doting on me dearly departed mother to have much of a life for myself. I was…kinda pathetic, to be honest."_

_Inwardly, Angelus rolled his eyes. He was actually having some fun with his new male partner before this sentimental slop had started spewing from William's mouth. If this kept up, fun or not, he might have to rip the boy's head off._

_William looked down at his hand, which he squeezed tightly as he relished his newfound strength. "But that was before Dru. Before you. God, man, whoever thought in being dead I'd ever feel this much alive, ya know?"_

_Satisfied, Angelus clapped the younger vampire hard on the back. "Aye, and that's just the tip o' the iceberg, Willie."_

"_William," the British vampire indignantly corrected. _

"_Right," Angelus waved the protest off, continuing. "But, as I was sayin'... tip o' the iceberg. I've been around evil in my time, lad. Seen a few bad apples, and a few fake tough guys. At first, I thought ye were a mistake—but I can see what Dru saw in you now. Beneath that Victorian exterior and that flowery poet garbage…there's an animal in there. I can **feel** it. Pacing, restless, brutal, snarling, 'n just waiting to be unleashed." _

_Angelus's dark eyes glittered with evil anticipation. "And may God have mercy on the world when it is. Aye, I can't wait ta see what happens when the **real** you is finally unleashed, boy."_

_William's eyes widened, almost dreamily. For so long, he had dreamed about becoming more than what he was; proving that he was more than just a 'bloody awful' poet and a punchline to a joke for those hypocrites in London's high society. Showing the world his strength, his vision, his glory, as his sweet Dru had promised him the night he'd been reborn as a vampire. And he would show them; he'd show them all, in a rain of death, glory and mayhem that only he was capable of. _

"_The real me," William mused. "I kinda like the sound of that…"_

"_We'll get you there, lad," Angelus laughingly assured him as he playfully clapped the blond man's cheek. "It'll take a little work, o' course but if yer looking fer a teacher, a more apt professor o' the art of killing ye'll never find."_

_Looking to the twitching corpse of the groom, William smirked. "Not doubting that for a moment, mate."_

"_First lesson of the day, boy-o," Angelus said as he dragged the catatonic bride to her feet, the woman not even bothering to fight as she was too shell-shocked from the carnage around her. "Now here, we have us a wonderful specimen. Beautiful, terrified, completely helpless…but do we drink her now?"_

"_Uh, yes?" William guessed. _

"_No," Angelus shook his head. "Because as sweet a nectar as blood may be, there's something even more savory that she can still offer…"_

_William's eyes lit up as he got it. "Oh," he smiled darkly. "A good shag, ya mean?"_

_Angelus gave his protégée a slap over the head, annoyed. "What? No!" Then he paused, considering what he had done to Drusilla twenty years ago. "Actually? Good point, and so we'll get to that later. But I was thinkin' there's another thing this cow's still good for." Angelus lifted one of his large fingers to the bride's cheek, tracing the tracks of fluid rolling down her pale skin. "Tears, laddie. You want to see her tears."_

"_Tears?" William said, hesitating. He never was really much into that sort of thing. In fact, he hated it when women cried. Well, he did when he was human anyway. "I dunno, Angelus, that doesn't sound like my type of—"_

"_Think about it, William," the older vampire interrupted. "Dru told me about ye…a poet, right? And not a very well received one at that. Think back to all the times those English pizzles laughed at ye, turned their noses up at ye, looked down on ye. Women like this little darlin' here," Angelus roughly grabbed her chin, "wouldn't even give ye the time of day, would they?" _

_At once, William could see his once-beloved Cecily Underwood's features disdainfully looking down on him. Hear her soft-spoken words rip out his heart syllable by syllable—"You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me"—as they echoed in his head and in his heart. William could see the laughter on the faces of those smug, arrogant upper-class bastards as they ridiculed his poetry, his labors of love, and more importantly, himself… _

_William's blue eyes darkened in anger. "No," he replied, in a low, angry tone. "They bloody well wouldn't."_

"_And now, who's got the power, eh?" Angelus grinned. "Class 'n status 'n all that clap-trap mean nothin' anymore. We're hunters, Willie. **You're** a hunter now. She's food. Laws, innocence, justice, all those trivial rules they tied around yer throat like a leash…'tis all meaningless now. Ye don't play by their rules anymore; ye damn well make your own. Ye can take what ya want." Angelus tightened his grip around the bride's slender throat, not that she appeared to notice. "**Have** what ye want. The world's yer oyster now, boy. One big juicy oyster just waitin' for ye to suck it dry." _

_The younger vampire mused and let his Grandsire's words sink in. William Pratt would never allow himself to sink to such behavior, which was so unbecoming of a gentleman…but then William Pratt was gone now, may he never return. In his stead was…well, William wasn't exactly sure yet…but whoever and whatever he was now, William liked it. He enjoyed it. He reveled in it. And he was ready to sink his fangs into this oyster of a world and drink the very last drop. _

"_Well, when ya put it that way, mate…" William shifted back into his vampire face. "…let's have a drink, shall we? One with a little salty tang to top it off?"_

_Angelus laughed heartily as his own demon face returned. "That's me boy. Now have a taste, but don't kill her. Remember…nice 'n slow. Ye want her to cry."_

"_'Cause it wouldn't be worth it if she didn't cry, would it?" the future William the Bloody grinned maliciously. _

"_Now yer catchin' on," Angelus smiled in chilling fashion, shoving the woman towards his Grandchilde. "Here ye go, Willie. Never let it be said that a woman ever came between us."_

_William laughed out loud at the thought. "That'll be the day," he chuckled as he buried his fangs into the woman's throat…_

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel Library ****– ****Los Angeles **

**Now**

* * *

Spike's head rang from the force at which Angel had slammed into him, the elder vampire shoving him hard against one of the bookcases with his heavy forearm pinned against the blonde one's throat.

"OW! Bloody hell, ya clumsy sod, that hurt!" Spike rasped out, angrily. With the lousy mood he was in, he really wasn't willing to tolerate this sort of crap.

Up close and personal, a livid Angel merely snarled, his whole being shaking with fury.

"Uh, maybe I should..." Lorne started to say, slowly backing away. But neither vampire even seemed to notice the anagogic demon's presence anymore.

"Christ, who pissed in _your_ prune juice, Gramps?" Spike ground out, annoyed.

"Gee, I don't know, Spike you tell me," Angel hissed out. "Could be that the Kings lost another hockey game. Could be that it's tax season. Could be that apocalypse coming in a few weeks, or the mess you made in my library…"

He pressed harder against Spike's throat, his dark brown eyes morphing into yellow as rage coursed through Angel's entire body. "Or it could be the fact that you _tried to rape Buffy last year_. Wanna guess which one it is?"

Spike's mouth fell open in surprise, completely caught off-guard by his Grandsire's knowledge of his actions during that much-regretted night when he had almost done something unforgivable to Buffy in her bathroom. "She told you?"

"Damn right, she did," Angel growled, Spike's confirmation only enraging him further. "Wanna guess how well I'm taking it?"

Blinded by his anger, Angel failed to see Spike's right hand slowly reaching for a nearby hardcover book behind him. "No thanks. Don't much care," Spike retorted as he swiftly cracked the book across Angel's face, sending him staggering backwards.

Instinctively, Spike lunged towards the elder vampire, fists balled for another attack. But having recovered quickly, Angel caught him with a side kick to the ribs, and then lashed out at the stunned Spike with a solid left hook that knocked him back and down to the floor.

Before Angel had the time to press his advantage, Spike agilely sprang to his feet, ready for more combat. "So, that's what this is about then, is it? You comin' to play judge and jury for something I did when I was evil, ya hypocritical ponce?"

"No, Spike. I already judged you," Angel replied icily, his once-again-dark eyes focused upon his Grandchilde like a hawk on a wounded rabbit. "I'm here to play the role I should have played a long time ago…_executioner_."

Spike snorted in response, which only made an already furious Angel even angrier. "Is that right? Better be careful what you wish for, gramps. Last time somebody dropped that line on me, it was that Wood git; only reason I didn't kill him was 'cause I felt kinda bad about offing his mum during the Disco Days. But you?" Spike's blue eyes narrowed hatefully. "You aren't going to be _nearly _as lucky, mate."

"So I heard…and read," Angel replied in disgust, as the two combatants circled each other, like two lions about to fight over a piece of meat. "You killed that girl without a single thought other than to add another Slayer notch on your belt. Was she afraid, Spike, huh? Like Buffy was, when you forced yourself on her inside her own home?"

Angel could hear Buffy's imagined screams echo in his head, which only served to feed the flames of his vengeful fury. "When she was bleeding, tired and hurt? Helpless? Did you get off on that, you lousy piece of crap? _Did you_?"

Guilt and anger consumed Spike as he unwantedly remembered that awful night, remembered the ripping and tearing of Buffy's robe, and the frantic and frightened squirming of the panicked blonde girl beneath him.

"What would _you_ know about it, you bloody wanker? You think that hasn't haunted me since I got this damn soul shoved back down my throat? And why do you care, anyway? _You_ damn well left _her_ to go play Clue in this miserable town with the bimbo cheerleader and your little fan club. Meanwhile, _I_ was the one who stuck around and helped her pick up the pieces...even after her boyfriend, G.I. Joke, buggered out of town. Even after she clawed her way out of her own damn _grave_!"

"And you think _that_ gives you the right to do what you did to her?" Angel ground out in a feral tone. "To try and violate her like that?"

Spike smirked knowingly at Angel. "Time was, last year, that I didn't _have_ to try. She came to _me_, Peaches. She practically _begged_ me for it. And you wanna know why?"

_Oh, that's it. He's going in an ashtray. _"Yeah. I know _exactly_ why," Angel snarled coldly…

….and then, in a blur of movement, he smashed Spike's face in a double ax-handle strike, drawing blood as the younger vampire's head jerked to the side.

"Because she was _hurt_!" He drove his knee directly into Spike's sternum. "Because she was _lonely_, and _miserable_, and _needed_ someone!" Another fist slammed into Spike's chest. "_Anyone_ who didn't drag her out of Heaven! Even _you_."

Another powerful punch snapped Spike's head backwards as the peroxide-blonde vampire fell backwards against a wall, Angel stalking towards him, methodically taking his time. "And once you realized that, you slipped in like the cockroach you are. _You belong in the darkness with me—_yeah, Buffy mentioned that. I taught you well, didn't I? You waited for her to let her guard down, waited until she was vulnerable, until she was at her lowest; then you made your move. And when she finally rejected you, you did something even Angelus didn't dare try...because you're a rabid animal, Spike. Always have been, always will be. And now? It's time for me to put you down."

_Bloody git, he always did like the sound of his own voice too much... _Alert to his surroundings, Spike spotted a nearby metal rod, having fallen from its place on one of the bookshelves. So picking his moment, Spike waited until Angel was close enough, and swiftly grabbed it and swung upwards, catching Angel right in the chin and sending him reeling to the side.

Spotting his opening, Spike followed up with another hard blow with the rod, catching Angel right in the mouth and drawing a sickening stream of saliva and blood flying from his foe's lips as he flew back onto the ground, dazed.

The peroxide-blonde vampire snorted cruelly as he stepped towards Angel, rod in hand. "_Animal_, am I? Then what the hell does that make _you_? You think because you got that gypsy curse rammed up your ass that you get a whitewash on what you did? What ya did to Drusilla and her family? Or that Holtz wanker? Or how ya left that chit Jenny Calendar's body as a gag gift for Giles, after you snapped her neck like a twig?"

"You can fool yer little posse, Gramps. You can fool the Nibblet, and you might even have Buffy and Faith fooled with that Champion act you put on. Hell, you might have nearly _everyone_ around 'ere believing you're the tortured and righteous hero, _SuperVamp_, fighting for truth, justice and soccer moms." Spike laughed coldly, mockingly. "But we both know who you _really_ are, Angel. And the kind of depraved, downright _sick_ shit you're really capable of. Remember the Remington wedding? That massacred orphanage in Munich? The hospital fire you set in Brussels? The Scourge of Europe, the biggest, sickest, most rotten bastard in all vampiredom, you were…"

Spike smirked, remembering the words Angelus had said long ago.'_A more apt professor o' the art of killing ye'll never find,'_ indeed, Papa Bear. Taught me all you know, remember? And now, you reckon just because you mope around like a moody old sot, pretending you're all deep and noble, that your shit smells better than mine? You think _you're better than me_?"

In spiteful rage, Spike buried his boot in the side of Angel's already-injured ribs, drawing a groan of pain from the Champion as he rolled over on the ground clutching his side. And if the truth were told, Spike relished the crunching of Angel's ribs to its fullest, seeing his one-time mentor so humbled. He remembered all the times during the last century that Angelus had looked down on him, humiliated and belittled him; that smug, shit-eating grin he'd flashed Spike the night he came home to find Drusilla and her Sire in the throes of passion.

_Soul or no soul, he's always been a self-righteous old bastard. Like somehow, just by _**looking**_ at me, he's thinks he's better than me, _Spike thought bitterly as he stood over his Grandsire._ Taking everything that belonged to me. Dru, my glory, my pride, anything he could get his hands on, he'd take. And now, the ponce thinks he can just waltz back into **MY** Slayer's life and take her away from me after everything I've done for her, everything I've put myself through for her? I'll rip out his bloody throat first! _

"How do you think you look _now_, 'hero'?" Spike spat scornfully.

As he shook off the cobwebs, Angel saw his opening as Spike made the same mistake he had done, with regards to the speechifying. "A lot better than you'll feel after _this_!" the elder vampire retorted…

…just as his steel-tipped boot shot out and connected with Spike's groin.

Seeing stars, Spike was caught off-guard as his eyes started watering and he dropped the metal bar with a choked, wheezing sound. Quickly, Angel sprang to his feet and followed up with another solid kick that sent Spike flying over a nearby table.

Growling, Angel wiped the blood from his mouth, his red-caked teeth bared in fury as he regarded Spike, still struggling to get to his feet. Regarded one of his biggest regrets. The creature that he, during his soulless years, had regarded as close to him as a brother, perhaps even a worthy protégée, was now the embodiment of every single one of his accursed sins. Every mistake Angel had ever made. Thrown back in his face with proud, unrepentant eyes and a leering, taunting grin.

And not only Angel's sins, but Spike's as well. All the people his Grandchilde had killed, every death he was responsible for, like Nikki Wood and that Chinese Slayer Spike had murdered during the Boxer Rebellion. Deaths that Angel could have prevented, if he had only done what he should have done long ago…end Spike once and for all.

But he hadn't—why, only the Powers That Be knew—and others had paid for it; _Buffy_ had almost paid for it. The one woman he had ever loved in all of his long, lonely life was nearly raped and murdered by this repulsive creature that _he_ helped create…

_How many times did Buffy come close to dying because of this son of a bitch? _Angel mused angrily, his fists tightly balled. _How many times did Spike come close to killing her, taking her away from the world, away from Dawn, Giles and the others…away from my life? How many others has he left without a father, or a mother or without sons or daughters? No, enough's enough. I might not be able to bring them back, but I can make sure of this much_—_he'll never hurt Buffy or anyone else ever again. Spike dies tonight, by my hand...like it should have happened long ago… _

It was not surprising how his promise to Buffy had totally flown out of Angel's head, by this point in time. There was only the lust for battle, his burning need to avenge the near-violation of his beloved and the yearning to have Spike's head on a silver platter. The single-minded idea that he had to do this, before Spike could have a chance to hurt anyone else again because of Angel's weakness in allowing him to live.

Someday, he told himself, Buffy would understand. She'd have to understand why he had to do this; why this was for the best…

Waiting until Spike got back to his feet, wanting this to be a fair fight, Angel growled as he let the demon take the driver's seat. "Enough of the warm-up, 'Willie.' It's showtime now." Effortlessly, Angel's bleeding, bruised face shifted into its enraged vampire form. His game face. "_Let's finish this_."

Clucking his tongue sarcastically as the blood flowed freely from his mouth and forehead, Spike sneered. "Took the words right outta my mouth, mate." Then his own demonic face emerged. "_Now, I'm gonna tear the head right off of yer shoulders, like I shoulda done **years** ago_!"

"Big talk, little man," Angel smiled in cold, feral fury. "Let's see if you can back it up."

"Be a pleasure," Spike snarled.

"Got _that_ right," Angel growled.

And with Lorne no longer anywhere in sight, , with old grudges centered on jealousy, pride and dominance more than a century in the making and with one simultaneous lunge, Spike and Angel clashed once more. Dead set on finally ending this feud, once and for all.

Dead set on ending each other….once and for all…

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel Library ****– ****Third Floor **

**A few minutes earlier**

* * *

Buffy sighed tiredly as she trudged down the hallway towards her room. Her temporary quarters, here in Angel's hotel the one sanctuary she had left to escape all the madness around her.

Buffy's head was spinning from the gravity of everything that had happened lately. The pending End of All Time, the growing list of enemies, the loss of both her job and a valuable ally, Dawn's new beau and, of course, the saga of Buffy-Angel-Spike that was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode and unleash sheer destruction all over the place.

Unconsciousness, or even that fugue state she had lapsed into back when Glory had kidnapped Dawn, had never seemed more inviting to her than right now.

About halfway towards her room, Buffy caught sight of Faith turning the corner into the hallway, presumably heading for her own room.

Catching sight of her mystical sibling, the raven-haired Slayer gave her a laid-back smile. "Hey, B. What's shakin'?"

However, Buffy's incredulous reply was far less friendly. "What's shakin'? _That's_ all you have to say to me?"

"Well, would ya prefer 'how's it hangin'?" Faith replied as she cocked an eyebrow at her sister Slayer, wondering exactly what had crawled up her butt and died.'Cause personally, I never thought you were into that whole 'penis envy' crap..."

"Why the hell were you away for so long?" Buffy demanded, her voice low and angry.

It didn't seem fair to her. Both of them had the same powers and responsibilities, so why should Faith be allowed to skirt her duties and go have fun while she was stuck carrying the heavy load, as usual?

Faith felt herself bristle at the petite blonde's assertive attitude. "Chill, 'mom.' You knew I was gonna go out tonight. Cleared it with Angel and everything, not that I actually needed to, so what's the big?"

"What you needed was to _be here_," Buffy replied sternly. "Damn it, Faith, this wasn't the time to go paint the town red with Spike; we needed you here tonight. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but we're in the middle of a frickin' apocalypse! And I know you don't have all that much experience with apocalypses, unless you count the time you nearly started one, but right now we need all hands on-deck to—"

"Oh, yeah, here we go," Faith cut her off as she rolled her eyes at the last part of Buffy's speech. "Newsflash, B, but it's not the '90s anymore. I put away my black hat for keeps a long time ago, remember?"

"Right," Buffy snarked. "A long time ago. It's been a whole three years without you killing anyone. It's like you're Mother Teresa now."

While the words easily rolled off her tongue, deep down, Buffy was a little surprised at herself. True, she and Faith had a very ugly history, and she'd been less than thrilled about the brunette's initial arrival at her home a few days ago; but Buffy had thought she was willing to put the past aside in the name of world save-age.

So, why was she so quick to bring up old grudges now?

Needless to say, Buffy's remark did not sit well with Faith. "Wow; this must be a new record for you, B. Not even ten sentences exchanged between us, and already you're pulling the skeletons out of my closet. Okay, fine, if ya insist...let's do this."

Faith pointed to herself. "Screw-up." Then she pointed back to Buffy. "Golden girl. That make you feel all nice and tingly in all your naughty places?"

"Okay, first off, gross; and second, this isn't about me. This is about you needing to keep your priorities straight," Buffy answered snappishly. "We're at war here! Sure, I'd love to take a night off and go live it up someplace like you did, but instead I'm right here in the foxholes while the bombs keep dropping. And I expect you to do the same if you're on my team. I mean, do you even care about what's going on?"

The words struck a bad chord in Faith, who felt the flickers of anger begin to rise at Buffy's insinuations. She had put herself in harm's way almost on an hourly basis since she broke out of prison to help restore Angel's soul weeks ago. Hell, she'd nearly died a couple of times. And yet Little Miss Priss was questioning her involvement? If everything she'd done lately wasn't enough to show her commitment to the current situation, she didn't know what was!

"Listen, blondie, you need to get a few things straight right now," Faith answered coldly. "First, just because I don't walk around like I have a stick rammed up my ass like you do, doesn't mean that I don't care. Second, I've got people on the line here as well, and no, I'm not talking about you and the Scoobies…well, not all of you, anyway. I'm talking about Angel. He's the only one who ever had my back when everyone else gave up giving a damn about me. And I'm not about to let _him_ down when he needs my help."

Buffy wasn't willing to concede so easily. "Right, going out to do a few body shots with Spike at some dive bar. Great way of helping Angel out, Faith, you're a _real_ team player!" The sarcasm was practically oozing out of her voice.

Faith studied Buffy for a moment, as something clicked in her brain after hearing the other woman's words. "Hang on; is _that_ what this is about? Me spending some time with your latest Flavor of the Month?"

Through surprised, Buffy was nonetheless quick to defend herself. "What? No! This has nothing to do with—"

"Oh, don't you try that one with me you bet your bony little ass it does," Faith scoffed as she swiftly interrupted, not buying Buffy's protests for a second. "Yeah, I get it now. You're fine with me being here as long as I'm doing the heavy hitting, risking my neck and fighting off Bringers and vamps but you see your latest undead boy toy start looking my way, and all of a sudden you start ridin' my ass as payback? Is _that_ it?"

Her temper starting to rise, Buffy folded her arms across her chest as she glared at Faith accusatorily. "No. But while we're on the subject, that _is_ your signature move, isn't it? What's yours is yours and what's mine is yours, too?"

Too much bad blood still existed between these two women, in no small part because of that part of their history. Angel, Scott Hope, Riley, and now Spike…to this day, it still royally pissed Buffy off to think that for some odd, stalker-ish reason, Faith always had to go after one of her men simply because Buffy'd gotten there first.

And while the situation with Spike was still somewhat confusing to Buffy—and the progress she had been making with Angel had given her hope that she could rekindle their former romance, which had never really burned out—she still wasn't sure if she was ready for Spike to start looking at other fish in the sea…particularly a barracuda like Faith.

The woman who had betrayed her, nearly killed her family, friends and Angel, stolen her body, slept with her boyfriend, tried to destroy the world, and had used her Slayer powers to hurt and kill innocents that Buffy was sworn to protect.

Buffy could forgive most faults that people close to her had but betrayal and the willing intent to hurt her and her loved ones was one thing that she had never learned how to let go of.

"Is that what Spike is to you, B? Is he _yours_?" Faith baited the Summers woman. "Or do you just like stringing him along like a good little puppy, while you're making goo-goo eyes at Angel?"

Faith knew that technically, she should mind her own business. That she should try to change the subject or something, if she knew what was good for her. The bad blood between Buffy and herself could make this get real ugly real fast if the tiny blonde completely lost her temper.

But Angel was her friend, damn it, and Spike…no matter what he'd done in the past as a soulless monster, Faith knew he seemed like a genuine good guy now. And if Buffy had no intention of embarking on something real with him, then it was completely goddamn wrong that Spike should spend all his time hung up on someone he could never have when he could move on to someone else that could make him happy.

Still, from the way Buffy's eyes narrowed and her nostrils furiously flared, Faith knew that her question just now had really struck a nerve.

"You know what, Faith? You know nothing about my personal life, you know nothing about what happened between me and Spike, and you don't know a _damn thing_ about me and Angel," Buffy seethed, her fists clenching. "And since when do I have to justify _anything_ to _you_? After everything you did, to me _and_ the people I love, and all the people you hurt, that you _killed_?"

"Oh, right. Because it's not like you willingly humped two vamps with one _hell_ of a body count between them, and one of them was a soulless killer while you were banging hips together. No, wait, it _is_ like that," Faith replied, getting more irritated by the second at Buffy's holier-than-thou attitude. "It's kinda funny, ya know? 'Cause you've never had a problem giving Angel and Spike a free pass for everything they've done—and FYI, we both know they've murdered a _lot_ of people—yet when it comes to me, you just can't let me live down my mistakes, can you?

"Doesn't matter that I did time in the slammer, reliving everything I did _every single day_ for the last three years. Doesn't matter how much I try to help, try to show everyone that I've changed. Because to you, I'm crap stuck underneath your shoe; something you just can't get rid of fast enough. But God forbid other people should point out _your_ mistakes, right? That girlfriend Giles had who Angelus killed, all because you couldn't stake him when you had the chance? That guy, Parker something, who treated you like shit after the one night stand, all because you couldn't tell how he was slime straightaway?

"Because, hey, Buffy Summers _never_ screws up. Buffy Summers is perfect in every single way, she's the sun around which all our lives revolve around, and without her, there's just chaos," Faith said with an undisguised sneer. "That the way it is?"

"I'm not perfect, and I've never claimed otherwise," Buffy snapped. "But hey, you know what? At least I never _killed_ anybody."

"Not for lack of trying, though, right?" Faith smiled knowingly, her hand reaching down and tracing the faint scar on her stomach that Buffy was responsible for years ago. "Or did you forget how you shoved that knife through my gut back in the day? And don't tell me you didn't intend for it to happen, B. Plus, if everything had gone to plan, you woulda fed my ass to Angel in order to cure him of that poison and if that wasn't pre-meditated murder, then what was it?"

Buffy felt the heat rise to her face at that memory, but indignantly tried to mask her guilt over that. "You were evil then, remember? You nearly killed Angel, and you helped the Mayor try to destroy the world; everything you got, you had it coming, as far as I was concerned."

Faith smirked. "Had it coming? Wow, B. Starting to sound like some of my old cellmates in Stockton. Not very hero-y talk, is it?"

"Like you'd know _anything_ about being a hero," Buffy shot back, her hands beginning to ache from the need to smash her fists into Faith's face. "You're one of the most selfish people I ever met. When was the last time _you_ ever had to put your life on the line for anyone but yourself? When have you ever had to throw yourself right on top of the bomb to prevent everyone from getting killed? That's not you, Faith. You don't have it in you."

On the one hand, even as the words left her mouth Buffy knew just how petty that statement was. After all, she knew how Faith had helped prevent the apocalypse the night those Sisterhood of Jhe demons had opened the Hellmouth, and that the Boston girl never had the chance to really throw herself into the firing line as often as she had.

But on the other hand, Buffy just couldn't help herself; the not quite healed wounds of old rivalry and the bad blood created by fresh jealousy over Faith's new 'thing' with Spike, mixing with the natural differences between them, had created a toxic, explosive mixture just waiting to blow up in both their faces.

They were always going to be two different sides of the same coin, in Buffy's eyes. Light and Dark. Day and Night. Responsibility and Irreverence. Plain and Crunchy.

"Well, I never took a swan dive into any portals or anything like that, but if we're gonna get into this…_last week_," Faith replied, voice filled with grit. "When it came time to save Angel. Coulda died from that Orpheus shit I injected into my body. OD'ed and went into a coma for the guy, in order for him to get his soul back. Just lucky I didn't croak, or wake up completely brain-damaged. But when the chips were down and it was all on the line, I went all in."

Despite a small part of her that was truly grateful for that sacrifice, the rest of Buffy was too angry to let Faith win this round. "Because you owed him, right?"

"Because Angel's my _friend_. Hell, maybe the only one I've got left. And because it was the right thing to do," the former rogue Slayer bit off. "Not everyone keeps score with these things, Blondie. Playing games is your deal, not mine."

At those words, Buffy was automatically up close in Faith's face, offended and seething. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Faith knew that she had yet to shoot her most poisonous arrow at Buffy, but she was hesitant about doing so. It just seemed…mean. Not to mention, it would have been too easy and after the night she'd had, all Faith really wanted to do was get some sleep, maybe even find a little time to figure out whatever these feelings she'd developed concerning Spike really meant.

But at the rate Buffy was pressing this issue, Faith was sorely tempted to reach for that quiver.

"You know exactly what I mean, B," Faith snorted, not backing down an inch.

"Then pretend I'm stupid, and I'll pretend I give a damn about what you think..._F_," Buffy icily parried.

Again, Faith smiled coldly. "Fine, you want the truth? Okay, hot stuff...this thing you got going between you and Spike. Now, we both know his head is so full of you, you're practically all he sees. All he thinks about. Everything he's done since he fell in love with you, it was all for you to love him back—to feel the same way about him that he does about you. That whole 'happily ever after' thing.

"But the question is, what's Spike to you? Way I see it, he's just a piece of ass you've got going on the side. Oh, sure, you make him _think_ he's got a shot with you but even after all these months, you don't dare tell the guy that he doesn't have a prayer as long as Angel's still kicking around somewhere. So you keep screwing with Spike's head, but God forbid he starts looking at another filly in the stable, 'cuz then you'd throw a pissy fit."

"Same with Angel, in a way. He told me all about how you treated him the last time you were in LA on my account, rubbing your feelings for that Soldier Boy right in his face. But the second he starts looking at someone else, say, Cordelia? Look out, here come the Big Hurt Eyes. And you know that you ought to make a choice between 'em once and for all, that you should just lay your cards out on the table and stop playing 'Boggle' with their heads, but you don't. You _can't_. And not because you can't decide which of 'em you love more, or even who's better in the sack...it's because you kinda _like_ being the center of attention, right? Batting your pretty little eyes and driving all the boys crazy? Deep down, you don't mind if those two studs rip each other apart to get a shot at tapping your little uptight ass—because in the end, it's all about _you_. You California chicks have always been hard-up for the dramatics. And girl friend, you're the biggest drama queen I know."

"_Shut. Your. Mouth_," Buffy ground out, dangerously. Her eyes, her whole body language screamed 'Fight!' and it was plain as day for Faith to read. "You don't know anything about what I've had to deal with, or how I feel about Angel _or_ Spike!"

"Right, right, the whole 'Woe-Is-Me-I'm-the-Slayer-and-nobody-understands-what-I-have-to-deal-with' shtick; I remember it well. Been singin' that tune since high school, B; it's getting kinda old, don't ya think?" Faith shook her head. "But, hey, far as I'm concerned, you can keep doing what you've been doin'. Keep stringing Spike along. Keep messing with his head, and keeping him from looking at anyone else that might even have a smidge of a chance of making the guy happy. As long as you get your girly kinks out of it, it's all good, right? But just one question?"

"What?" Buffy snarled furiously.

Faith threw out her most poisonous barb yet. "What do you think Joyce would say right now, if your mom was still around to see everything you've been up to lately?"

Buffy went still with shock and horror; she was unable to believe that Faith, of all people, was willing to play that card at this late date. The blonde woman then tensed up, green eyes lit with rage, ready to punch Faith's lights out. _No,_ _screw that; I'm gonna do what I shoulda done years ago, and just __**kill**__ her!_

But somehow, _somehow_, Buffy managed to calm down, to quell the hot rage bubbling within her, not wanting Faith to have the satisfaction of knowing that her cheap shot had hit home. And it was probably just as well that it never occurred to Buffy how, had she lived, Joyce would almost certainly have gotten rid of Spike the same way she'd done with Angel. Because despite their friendship, the Summers mom had known the peroxide-blonde vampire would never stop chasing off any and all of his human rivals, from the moment her daughter had told her of Spike's romantic feelings.

As far as Joyce had been concerned, her firstborn needed someone who could give her a future which included marriage and children; which automatically precluded vampires from the equation.

Putting that aside, Buffy had a poison arrow of her own for Faith, and she had no reservations any longer about letting it fly.

"My mom?" Buffy laughed coldly in response to Faith's question. "My mother would say that she was proud of me, and that she loved me no matter what. And as for Spike finding someone else, who exactly did you have in mind? _You_? Sure, and just how long would that last, Faith? Because I know you. You'd just screw around with him until you got bored, and moved on to some dirtbag on a motorcycle. Or some guy who worked at the local Walmart. Or whoever else was convenient. Because you don't know what love, _real_ love, is. You don't even know _how_ to love. Which isn't a surprise, given that I doubt anyone's ever loved you back. Certainly not your old boyfriends…not even your parents, from what you told me way back when. Ever think that maybe there was a reason for that?

"You don't know what it's like to love someone so much that it feels like you're bursting inside, so much that it's all you can feel, all you can see. To give everything you have, everything you'll ever be, for him. To love a guy so much that when he's in danger, _you're_ in danger, and at that moment, you know that no matter the cost, no matter what happens to you, that you'd give anything—_everything—_if it meant giving him just one more second of life…even if it's your own. And in between a couple of trips back and forth from the grave, if there's one thing I've learned, it's this; that love is the difference between living and existing, Faith. And maybe that's why you've always been jealous of what I've had. Because I've known that love, I've lived it…but you? You wouldn't know real love if it punched you right in the face. And that just eats away at you, doesn't it? I may have died twice, but damn it, I've _lived_. And you? You've just _existed_."

Faith had to force herself to put on an expressionless mask as she stifled the stinging feeling at the back of her eyes…as she tried to ignore the burning ache where a giant hole in her heart lay, the painful reminders and echoes of her past, the way that Spike's words had cut her deeply earlier tonight.

But as much as Faith tried to ignore it, there was still that small part of her, that dark part she had locked away deep down inside, that couldn't help but to agree that Buffy spoke the truth…that she didn't know love. Never had. Was never worthy of it. She was built to fight, built to screw, maybe…but not to love.

_Because you don't deserve it_, the voice cruelly jeered, the venom in those poisoned thoughts making her muscles clench, her eyes burn. _Murderers don't deserve to be loved..._

Still, the brunette Slayer gathered what was left of her resolve, and locked eyes with the blonde one determined not to have Buffy get the last word as she nocked one more arrow she could fire.

"You talking about Spike…or Angel?" Faith asked with a cocked eyebrow. "Because I'm guessin' we both know the answer to that one as well. Of course, if I'm wrong and you're one hundred percent done with your high school ex, I figure Cordelia will be real happy to hear that. 'Cause according to Fred, they're like 'meant to be' or whatever the pom-pom queen's been in Angel's life for the past three years, but you haven't. In some ways, she knows him better than you ever did. Cuts deep, doesn't it?"

"Are you _trying_ to piss me off?" Buffy growled out, looking like she was at the very end of her tether.

It was almost painful how hard it was not to gloat for Faith, even though she permitted herself a little smirk. "Depends. Is it working?"

"_Yes_," the blonde Slayer hissed out through clenched teeth.

"Actually, ya know what? I don't even care right now," Faith shrugged. "It's late, I'm tired and I don't feel like playing any more games with you, B. I'm going to get some shut-eye, and I suggest you do the same. You know...'priorities,' and all that jazz."

Just as she began walking around Buffy towards her room, the smaller Slayer's powerful hand closed firmly around Faith's arm.

"We're not done here yet," Buffy grounded out through clenched teeth, determined not to be dismissed so abruptly.

Slowly, Faith's surprised and now-angry doe brown eyes trailed from the vise-like grip around her bicep to the simmering blue-green eyes of the older Slayer. Her voice was incredulous, yet edged with warning. "I'm only gonna say this once, B. Get your damn hand _off of me_."

A smile best described as just plain mean slowly formed on Buffy's face. "And if I don't? Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Faith's patience was vanishing, as quickly as the urge to take Buffy down a peg or three with a good kick to the mouth was rising. "Oh, you're starting to make me want you to find out, Drama Queen."

The challenge in Buffy's voice was perfectly clear. "Yeah? Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right. It ain't like the last time. If we throw down, I don't see you having that knife this time to back up the delusions of grandeur," Faith's smile was gladiator-like as she knocked Buffy's hand away. "You think you could take me? It's been three years, and I'm more than ready to find out."

"_Ditto_," Buffy's tone was almost shark-like with bloodlust and anticipation.

But before things could get violent between them, Buffy and Faith were interrupted by Lorne's frantic footsteps as he turned the corner to find the mismatched pair.

"Oh, thank God…you gals…are here!" the Pylean demon panted. "Angel…Spike…fighting to death….library…have…to stop them…really…could use…some water…right now!"

Buffy's mouth fell open in dismay, groaning inwardly as she realized that it really had been too much to hope for that the two vampires she had feelings towards could coexist in the same hotel for long without killing each other.

Reluctantly realizing that it would probably take more than just her to break those two up, and that nothing good would come out of a showdown with her opponent, Buffy looked to Faith. "Okay with you if we settle this another time?"

Nodding quickly as she realized the gravity of the situation, Faith said, "C'mon. Let's go save those two dumbasses from themselves."

And just like that, the two Slayers bolted for the library, Lorne groaning as he started wheezing and running behind them. "Oh, faboo. More running. Yay..."

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel Library**

**Now**

* * *

The walls of the library shook as the bodies of both Angel and Spike slammed into the walls, their blows bone-crunching, and their rage uncontrollable.

As Spike shook off one of Angel's punishing right hooks, the British vampire chuckled as he taunted his Grandsire. "Guess Hollywood's made ya go soft, old man. I remember you used to hit a lot harder than that."

Angel sneered in response. "Actually, it's just your head's gotten a lot thicker," he retorted as he tried to backhand-punch Spike, only for the younger vampire to duck under the blow and deliver a left hook of his own that made Angel sees stars for a moment.

"Really? I'll let _you_ be the judge o' that," Spike grinned as he viciously head-butted Angel, before following up with a hard kick to the gut that knocked the older vampire against the wall.

Stunned, Angel barely had time to get his bearings before Spike moved in with several hard, crushing right hand blows to his face. To some degree, Angel could not help being impressed; Spike had definitely upped his game in the last few years. Angel figured that being limited to fighting only vampires and demons because of that chip in his head must have built up Spike's overall strength and stamina. It was certainly enabling him to take blows that would have leveled him during years past.

But Angel was no slouch, either. Since his arrival in LA years ago, he had done nothing _but_ fight demons; and the worst of the worst, from vampires to fearsome creatures such as Vocah, Skip and the Beast. Through the fires of those deadly battles, Angel had emerged stronger, smarter and every bit worthy of the title of Champion that was bestowed on him by the Powers That Be.

Still, this was where the lines grew blurry. Angel was certainly stronger and faster, given his advanced age, and he had a superior skill set thanks to his learning of dozens of fighting styles from his travels around the world and the intense training under Whistler's guidance that had honed those skills. Nonetheless, Spike had done some traveling himself and had picked up his own formidable skill set. Couple that with his strength, agility and obscenely high tolerance for pain, and that easily made Spike one of Angel's deadliest opponents ever.

Bottom line? They were both too evenly matched and too equally determined to win on strength or skill alone. Like all such close contests, victory was going to come down to one thing—who would take advantage of the other's first mistake.

"Do you have _any_ idea how long and how badly I've wanted to rip your pompous head off and take a piss on your ashes?" Spike snarled between punches in a cathartic release of aggression. "It was all I could stand to keep from bursting into flames, sometimes!" He rained down even more blows. "You've had this coming for too long, you stupid git. You're _not_ gonna win…_not this time_."

Through dazed and bloodied as Spike hauled him up by the lapels of his leather coat, Angel could still see opportunity when it came his way. "You were never really…a quick learner, Spike. But I thought…you'd have learned…by now…when it comes…to you…and me…"

With one swift burst of strength, Angel drove the heel of his boot directly into Spike's right foot, causing him to curse in pain. The opening was what Angel needed as he lashed out with a left uppercut that caught Spike in the jaw, driving him backwards before Angel grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and in one motion, heaved him through the air, Spike's fall broken by a shattering wooden table on the other side of the room.

"…I always win," Angel finished as he straightened himself up, left arm clutching his damaged ribs.

His head ringing and his pride hurt, Spike angrily stirred as he slowly staggered to his feet, brushing the wooden splinters off of him as he clutched one jagged piece of wood in his right hand.

Slowly positioning himself behind the last table that wasn't destroyed, Angel merely waited for his moment. _That's it, Spike. Get mad. Mad and careless, like you usually do during times like this. If I time the next move just right…_

Right on cue Spike, his fangs bared and ridges curled in rage, roared in absolute fury before he charged at the elder vampire, makeshift stake in hand as he readied himself for the endgame move. In one motion…

"This."

…Angel reached out and twisted Spike's arm, while using the other vampire's momentum to lift him high overhead…

"_Ends_."

…and flip him into a devastating crash landing through the wooden table.

"_**Now**_!"

Disoriented, bleeding and barely able to move, Spike lay dazed on the ground, as vulnerable as he was ever going to be. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt and the discarded stake on the floor, Angel roared in feral rage as he reared back his hand back, ready to end this fight with one decisive stake right through the chest.

But then, for some reason he couldn't understand…he froze.

As Spike's face regressed back into its human mask, swollen and cut, dazed and almost completely out of it, something, some...unknown force...stilled Angel's hand. It was trembling so badly it was vibrating from the want, the need to see Spike explode into a cloud of ashes. To make him pay for Robin's mother, and everyone else…to make him pay for what he'd attempted to do to Buffy.

It would be so easy, too. Just one hard, swift plunge of his arm, a few solid pounds of pressure he could effortlessly summon to have the wooden shaft break through the skin and bone of Spike's sternum until the stake pierced the heart. It would be so damned easy…

But damn it all, he couldn't do it. Couldn't finish it. Angel just _couldn't_.

_But why not? It's what he deserves, isn't it?_ Sure, Spike had a soul now, and according to Buffy he'd changed from what he'd been back when he and Drusilla had first arrived in Sunnydale...but how much could someone like Spike _really_ change? Just what sort of difference existed, pre- and post-soul?

Angel could remember seeing the handiwork of his Grandchilde first-hand, back in the old days. He'd killed everything in his path, and even things far out of his path at times; he'd bathed himself in blood and violence and wanton destruction. Aside from his evil alter ego and Darla's soulless self, Angel had never seen the kind of passion that murder and mayhem brought out in another being like it evoked in Spike.

And the cold harsh truth was that the presence of a soul didn't preclude someone from indulging their darker urges; Angel knew that better than anyone. Buffy might have deluded herself into thinking that a soul automatically made Spike one of the good guys but even with his own soul present, Angel had done quite a number of things he wished he could take back, ever since 1898.

Without that chip in his head to keep him from hurting anyone, under the right circumstances Spike might seek Buffy out again, might try to force himself on her again and next time, he might not be willing to take no for an answer; even if it meant her death, or the deaths of her family and friends. So wasn't it Angel's _duty_ to do what had to be done right now, while he had the chance?

_Well, that's a little hypocritical, isn't it?_ argued one part of the elder vampire's mind. Buffy should have killed _him_ years ago, but Angel had lived because she was the only one that saw beyond what he was and what he did…she saw what he could be; not as a demon, but as a man. A _good_ man. And he had made the most of his second chance with every life that he'd saved since then.

Angel simply could not drive the thought out of his mind didn't Spike deserve the chance to do the same? To see if he could rectify his own blood-soaked past?

Didn't Angel owe it to him, in a sense? After all, he had played a large part in making Spike what he had become. Would he be wrong in not doing his part to allow Spike to repent and change? Angelus had helped make this wretch, after all; now that they both had a soul, shouldn't Angel mind him?

And beneath all of that, putting aside the jealousy and the clash of egos and personalities and terrible history between them…there was something else. Whether Angel liked it or not, he and Spike were…connected. Both came from the same bloodline of the Master. They'd once traveled together, fought together, got drunk together. Both of their human families had been dead and gone for a very long time; and for better or worse, they were…in a way…family.

As the old adage went, you could choose your friends...but you couldn't choose your family.

All these thoughts and inner conflicts lasted for a few painfully long moments. Then Angel raised the stake over head, before he buried it deeply…into the floorboards next to Spike, just missing his head.

Spike stared dumbfounded at his Grandsire, who only ran a frustrated hand through his hair, disgusted with himself.

"Damn it, I can't," Angel muttered in quiet self-loathing as he stood up, taking his eyes away from Spike's prone form. "I should have…but God help me, I can't. I can't…"

Unfortunately, taking advantage of the unexpected opening, Spike's leg shot out and swept Angel's legs out from underneath him, the Irish-born vampire landing right on the back of his head; the unforgiving floor made his head bounce, and Angel immediately became dazed and woozy as all the injuries from his fights with both the Beast and Spike finally caught up with him.

His lips curled in a pitiless sneer, Spike grabbed a fistful of Angel's ripped and tattered shirt while his other hand retrieved the stake off the floor.

"Too bad for you, mate," Spike smiled in wild triumph as his hand reared back for the fatal blow through Angel's chest. "Because I bloody well _can_..."

But at the last moment, his hand was caught in a hard, crushing grip. Spike had only a fraction of a second to turn around before he got a fist full in the face that blasted him all the way to the other side of the library. Stunned, Spike looked in surprise at his assailant…

…a very pissed off-looking Buffy. Faith was only a few steps behind the older Slayer, followed by a panting and exhausted Lorne.

Ignoring the hurt look on Spike's face for the moment, Buffy reached down and helped a dazed Angel to his feet.

"You okay?" she asked, the concern in her eyes evident.

"Just...a little banged up," Angel groaned, though he tried to put on a brave face. "I'll be fine."

"Good," Buffy nodded…and then with one strong shove, she angrily sent Angel flying into the other side of the library, his battered frame colliding with the wall in a loud thud.

"OW! Ribs!" Angel grimaced as he clutched his sides in pain.

Moving quickly, Faith helped Spike up to his feet. "You alright?" she asked with genuine concern, allowing him to lean on her for support.

"Not…really, luv," Spike coughed as he draped his arm over her shoulder, though he couldn't take his eyes off of the livid blonde Slayer at the center of the room.

"All right, you two _jerks_. What part of 'cut the macho bullshit before I end up putting you both in an ashtray' was I _not_ clear on?" Buffy demanded, looking utterly furious. "We've got the biggest apocalypse we've ever faced coming up in less than three weeks, and you two have to do this _now_?"

"Oy, he started it!" Spike pointed accusatorily at Angel. "I was just in here mindin' me own business with a bit of reading, when this sanctimonious berk came stormin' in 'ere and started tearin' the place up!"

"Oh, sure," Angel laughed dryly, even though it hurt to do so. "Seriously, Spike, this is all _my_ fault? Who the hell gave you permission to come in here, and start throwing _my _books all over the place? Do you have any idea how hard most of these books were to come by?"

"Yeah, right, Peaches—'Prophecies for Dummies a right treasure that is, along with the Ark of the bloody Covenant and Atlantis!" Spike spat.

"You really don't have any respect for anything or anyone but yourself, do you?" Angel shook his head angrily.

"Well, if it comes from you…_no_," Spike smartly retorted.

"Hopeless dumbass," Angel flung at him in disgust.

"Gourmless tit!" Spike shot back heatedly, starting towards the other vampire, which prompted Faith to hold him back while Buffy likewise restrained Angel with both arms.

"Hey! Both of you, knock it off!" Faith barked as she held a struggling Spike.

"Did you just call me a 'tit'?" Angel demanded in incredulous anger.

"That is kind of a weird insult," Lorne agreed hesitantly.

"Okay, _everybody __**SHUT UP**_!" Buffy shouted authoritatively, as she tried to take command of the situation. "Look, I don't _care_ who started it. Because this is the last time I'm putting up with this crap! I've got a million things to juggle right now, and playing referee in a grudge match between two of the oldest and biggest babies this side of the continental United States is NOT going to be on that list!"

"Buffy..." Angel and Spike said at the same time, with identical offended expressions on their faces.

"I said _shut up_!If you two want to rip each other to pieces, do it after the universe is safe from the First. But we are not going to do this every single time you two step into a room together between now and this 'Wake-Me-Up' Doomsday thing we're facing! So, you two get the hell over whatever this beef between you is, because if you don't? Then you won't have to worry about killing each other. Because I'll be more than happy to send you both on a one-way ticket to Dustville! _Are. We_. _Clear_?"

Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple, and both Angel and Spike knew it. It had all been said before, after all, and the speech was losing its power the more often Buffy reiterated it. Unless the Slayer did something drastic like stake or cripple one of them which she couldn't, as Buffy needed both Angel and Spike intact and functional primal male ego, from an age when the women-folk were only good for having babies and looking after the household, forced both vampires to ignore the Chosen One's words.

Spike certainly wasn't done yet, regarding Angel with angry, jealous eyes as he saw his proximity to Buffy, who was still forcefully restraining him. "Look at you, mate. You think you're so damn special, don't cha? With your damned prophecy and your gadgets and your little giggly gang o' morons followin' you about. And you think just because you got all that handed to ya on a silver platter, like everything else you've ever been given, that you can look down on me? Like your damned past is so much cleaner than mine?"

"I never claimed to have a cleaner past than you, Spike. But unlike you, I don't just ignore what I've done," an angry Angel shook his head. "All the deaths I'm responsible for, all the collateral damage, I choose to pay for it every single day. You? You've never taken responsibility for anything. You killed that Slayer in New York, and even now you don't care how that ruined her son's life. Soul or no soul, you're no different now than you were five years ago."

"Well, that's the thing, Little Boy Brow; I _am_ different. And you know it," Spike smirked, sensing a new opening in order to stick it to Angel once more. "See, here's the way I look at it. You had the soul forced on you—as a curse. To make you suffer for all the horrible things you'd done. You never asked for it; it was supposed to be a punishment. Karma's way of kicking you right in the family jewels. But me? I _fought_ for my soul. Went through all those bloody trials. Almost did me in a dozen times over, but I kept fighting 'til I got what I went there for. 'Cause I knew it was the right thing to do. 'Cause it was my _destiny_."

Angel returned the smirk with one of his own. "Really? The way I heard it, it was all just to get into a girl's pants."

"Angel," Buffy tersely intervened, her eyes issuing a stern warning to the vampire in question. "Enough. Just stop, okay?"

But Angel refused to do that as he pushed away gently from her, standing up straight as his stony brown eyes bored into Spike's hardened blue orbs. If Spike wanted to play the verbal jousting game, then Angel was more than happy to oblige him.

"Let's look at what happened last year, shall we? You tried to rape Buffy, Spike. Whatever the circumstances, whatever she had let you do to her before, that time 'no' meant no. Afterwards, you knew that once Buffy felt better, that once she'd had some time to recover from what had happened, she would never let you near her again. So you went and got your soul back, acted crazy for a while and then a few weeks later...you were right back to your old self. Coincidence? You changed your wardrobe a little bit as well, from what I've seen. All black; gee, I wonder where that idea came from? What's next, Spike, adoption? Pick up a stray kid, try to make your own version of Connor to win those fatherly points in Buffy's eyes?

"But be all that as it may, Spike, here's the real difference between you and me; I give a damn about the people that I try to help. Whether they're my friends or whether I don't know them from Adam. Because _that's_ the right thing to do. I know who I am, and who I want to be. Do you? Or are you the sort of guy who only cares about what the girl thinks, and who helps out because you know that's what she wants you to do? Because I think…you're still that same pathetic little boy you've always been, desperately trying to prove to everyone around him that he's a man."

Spike's temper finally hit boiling point as he tried to lunge for Angel yet again, only for Faith to hold him even tighter. "You fucking bloody tosser! I shoulda killed you years ago, when I had the chance!"

"Spike! Spike, c'mon, calm down," Faith urged him. "You need to get a grip!"

"Go on, then, hero. Tell me more," Spike bit out angrily. "Tell me what it means to be a great and noble Champion like you…and I'll tell you why you can't stand the bloody sight of me!"

"Tell it to your therapist, Spike," Angel waved him off, not interested in the least at whatever barb it was that the British vamp was going to conjure up now as he turned to head out of the library. "Far as I'm concerned, we're done here."

As Spike thrashed in Faith's grip, he called out to Angel's back in anger, "It's 'cause every time you look at me, you see all the dirty little things I've done, all the lives I've taken, and you know the reason why it happened... it's because of _you_!"

Buffy swallowed hard as she saw how the words made Angel go absolutely still as he reached the doorway.

"You taught me, you molded me, you made me what I am, O Great Savior," Spike railed furiously. "And then you cast me off like some bastard child you refused to take responsibility for! Trying to wash your hands of me because you couldn't have me soiling that shiny coat of armor everyone thinks you wear. But you know the truth, and it eats at you like a cancer in that precious soul of yours—Drusilla may have sired me, but you…_you made me a __**monster**_."

There was a long, eerily still moment before Angel whirled around and started towards Spike menacingly, only to be held back again by Buffy.

"_Angel_! Angel, damn it, get ahold of yourself!" Buffy insisted as she struggled to hold back his larger, powerful frame.

Ignoring her completely, Angel narrowed his eyes at Spike. It was one thing for him to privately admit his hand in his Grandchilde's actions, but to actually hear it from the peroxide-blonde vampire's mouth…that wasn't something he was willing to let slide. If Angel could take responsibility for his own sins, then it was long past time for Spike to do the same thing.

"I didn't make you into anything, Spike," Angel countered icily. "The demon just amplifies what was already there; you and I know that, better than anyone. The rage, the anger, the violence…it was all there, just waiting to spring out like a jack-in-the-box. All I did as Angelus was give a little direction to a loose cannon, teach a few tricks to a mad dog. It wasn't even that hard. Admit it, Spike; you _liked_ being the animal you'd become after Dru turned you. All I had to do was open up the door...and let the _real _you out."

Despite his hateful focus on Angel, Spike could sense how Faith had uneasily loosened her grip on him just a fraction. Turning around, he could see the small slivers of fear in her eyes as the dark-haired Slayer pondered Angel's words. He then felt a stab of disappointment as he suspected that the Pouf had succeeded in turning her against him, too.

Disappointment…and rage.

"Nice speech, Peaches, but here's a shocker—you never knew the real me," Spike spat out angrily. "You were always too busy trying to see your own reflection in me...that's what you were looking for back then, wasn't it? Praying that there was someone as _disgusting_ as you in the world, so you could stand to live with yourself. Well, take a good look, hero. Because I'm _nothing_ like you!"

And after a short, but somehow eternal pause as his eyes regarded Spike, Angel shook his head.

"No. You're _less_." His voice was cold, taut with frankness. "And that's why Buffy never really loved you. Did she ever _once _use the L-word, Spike? No, because you're not me. And no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you imitate me…_you never will be_."

"Angel, _knock it off_!" Buffy ground out, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer that this verbal stone-throwing contest dragged out.

Spike's right eye twitched in anger as he took in Angel's most biting, most venomous barb. Because even after two long years, there was still that annoying voice in the back of his head which, although greatly muted, refused to be completely silenced.

_He's got a point, you know. As long as Captain Forehead is still walkin' the Earth somewhere, there's always going to be three of you in this twisted little relationship with Buffy you've got going. If he's around, in her eyes, he's her 'One True' and you're just a second-rate version of that clinically depressed ponce. Hell, you knew that back when you were busy trying to put her in the ground, long before you had her on her back and glistening with sweat. She doesn't love you…and even if one day she does, it'll never be more than she loves him._

But Spike knew he still had one last weapon in his locker, one thing he had over that smug git that he could hold high over his head.

"Oh, yeah? Is _that_ right?" Spike bit out through tight, pursed lips, trying hard not to smile as he threw out his most cutting jab. "So, I suppose she was thinking about _you_…all those times that I was _puttin' it to her_!"

Lorne gulped nervously. "Oh, hell..."

As the words brought forth images of those two caught up in the throes of passion, mixed with horrifying visions of Buffy screaming in terror while Spike tried to violate her, a primal roar erupted from Angel's throat as the furious vampire, game face slipping back on, lunged once again for Spike's jugular. And it took all of Buffy's strength to keep him at bay, despite all of his injuries on account of the both the soul and the demon were utterly _pissed_.

Buffy turned angry eyes towards Spike, outraged at both his crass reference to their sexual relationship and the fact that he would so blatantly throw it in Angel's face—_while_ she was present.

And, even worse, in front of Faith.

But at that moment, Spike's words made something click inside her mind. Buffy suddenly realized, with no absence of guilt, that Faith had been right all along. All this was effectively her fault; Buffy realized that she should have made things clear between her and Spike long before now. She should have clarified that while things had changed between them, while she had come to trust him, accept him and believe in him, while there was a clear place in her heart for him now…the place that Spike ultimately sought was occupied by someone else.

And while it hurt to know what the truth would do to him, Buffy knew that it was time to make that clear. And it was long past time for this little stoush to end.

With a sense of terrible foreboding, she met Spike's eyes and told him the simple truth.

"Actually…I _was_."

The hurt and shock on Spike's face was such that it made Buffy's own heart break. The way his face fell, how he went slack against Faith, who, utterly shocked as well, managed to lose her grip on Spike at last.

Even Angel, surprised as all heck to hear those words coming from Buffy's mouth, temporarily forgot his anger as he took a step back.

"You…you don't mean that," Spike uttered quietly, desperately, his face a portrait of overwhelming pain as he felt his unbeating heart begin to crack apart inside his chest.

Emotion threatening to overwhelm her, Buffy bit hard on her lip as she tried to focus and not to pay attention to the agonizing ache that Spike's hurt blue eyes caused her deep in her soul. But it was so hard. Damn it, she hated that it was this hard!

"Yes I do," Buffy confessed softly. "When we were together, especially at the start…thinking about Angel was…it was the only thing that stopped me from completely losing my mind. The…the shame…sometimes it was just too much to deal with, and so I pretended..."

Faith turned sympathetic eyes towards the rapidly crumbling Spike, awash in a confusing mixture of pity and heartache over the way the peroxide-blonde vampire's posture slumped and the spark in his eyes dimmed…just the raw ache of heartbreak that was radiating from him…mixed with jealousy and a little hurt of her own as she saw him looking at Buffy with a longing that she had never seen directed in her direction, from anyone—not lust, not desire, but a genuine 'want-to-touch-the-deepest-part-of-you-and-hold-you-until-our-souls-are-one-and-our-hearts-are-melded-together' way.

_He really does love her_, Faith mused sadly. _Poor guy. Came so damn close, ran his frickin' ass off...and he **still** ended up second at the finish line. Must suck to be him right now._

"Buffy…c'mon, luv, you know that there was more than that between us," Spike pleaded as he gestured between the air separating them. "It was real. It was _more_ than just pretending I was someone else. You felt something for _me_…I know it. I felt it. I felt you…you can't tell me it wasn't real. Because it _was_ real. Damn it, _it was **real**_!" He paused, before speaking again, much softer. "It was real."

"I'm sorry, Spike," Buffy uttered softly with pursed lips. "I know how you feel about me. And I care about you too, I really do…but Faith's right. This thing with you and Angel fighting over me, it has _got_ to stop. And if this is what I have to do, since the talking thing obviously isn't enough…then so be it."

Spike's pleas fell from his lips in a strained, regret-filled voice. "Buffy, fer God's sake…" _Please don't do this, Buffy…_

"I'm sorry," the Slayer said in a bare whisper of a voice, feeling like all kinds of an evil bitch for doing this to the man who'd been there for her since Glory had gone on the warpath in Sunnydale. Nonetheless Buffy gestured to Angel, "But it's him, Spike. Deep down, it's _always_ been him."

The Summers woman closed her eyes as she swallowed, before she met Spike's shattered blue eyes again. "And it always will be."

Angel felt his soul soar as he heard those words. Heard Buffy choose him. There were no more doubts. No more uncertainty about her feelings. No more questioning whether her love for him was as real as his was for her. Even after Graduation, and after the Soldier Boy, and her death and resurrection and Spike…she had chosen him.

But for all the joy her words had brought him, Angel could not relish seeing the raw agony on Spike's face, the forlorn vampire throwing his beloved one last, desperate plea. "Buffy, luv, just _listen_…"

But as he reached out and tried to desperately touch her face, Buffy stepped backwards as she shook her head sadly, moving out of his reach. The symbolism was unmistakable; it was all over between them. Forever.

A look of dejection briefly appearing on his handsome, angled features, Spike suddenly stared at Buffy like she was a complete stranger before he abruptly turned around and stormed out of the library.

Buffy's lips were drawn into a thin, narrow line as guilt and sadness consumed her. Faith, from her spot not far away, simply gave Buffy an accusatory glare that spoke volumes of what she now thought of the blonde girl before the brunette shook her head, and left the library without a word.

Stifling the urge to shed tears at the pain which she had caused her undead former lover, Buffy slowly and sadly shook her own head. _Oh, God. Oh, Spike…I only hope you can forgive me someday…but you deserved the truth. You __**needed**__ to hear it, no matter how much it hurt you...**and** me._

Lorne nervously cleared his throat. "Well, that was…uh, I think I'll be on my…yeah," the lounge demon awkwardly muttered before he exited the library.

Sensing the guilt and conflict that Buffy was feeling, Angel, somewhat guiltily, tried to console her as he drew closer. "Buffy…I—"

But he was cut off as Buffy held up her hand, without even turning towards him. "_Don't_, Angel," she tersely, quietly warned. "Please. I don't want to hear one word from you right now."

As she began walking out of the library, Angel's enhanced hearing caught Buffy angrily muttering, "_Not one word_."

For someone who had just won the heart of the woman he loved, Angel was sure he couldn't feel any lower than he did right at that moment. Twice in one night, he had inadvertently made life difficult for the love of his life. Gotten her fired. Made her break the heart of someone she cared for…even if it was Spike.

All he was trying to do was to help her…but instead, he'd only made things worse than ever before, Angel realized in shame.

And as he stood in the ruins of his library, nursing his own broken ribs and a guilty conscience, Angel found himself agreeing with Buffy on one thing. "Damn…this really _is_ the worst night ever."

* * *

**TBC…**

* * *

**Next: In the aftermath of the fight, what will Spike's state of mind be? And will the heartbroken vampire still stick around…or will he bail with the apocalypse looming on the horizon? And what part will Faith have in that decision?**

**Cordelia and Angel finally have a talk. Just where do Cordy's feelings lie?**

**And when a heated 'moment of passion' between Angel and Buffy gets out of control, will it spell disaster for their rekindling romance?**

* * *

Well, that's a wrap. Update to come soon! And remember, every review is a chance to smash a puny god! Lol

Later!

-Jean-theGuardian


	30. Part 28 Breathe

**Bring Me To Life – A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event**

**Part 28 ****– ****Breathe**

* * *

_I  
Played the fool today  
And I  
Can see us vanishing into the crowd  
Longing for home again  
But home  
Is a feeling I buried in you_

I'm alright  
I'm alright  
It only hurts when I breathe

_-"Breathe", Greenwheel_

* * *

**Hyperion Hotel, L.A. – Spike's Room**

**15 Minutes Later**

* * *

She probably should have left after the sound of the first object slamming outside Spike's hotel room door.

She definitely should have left after the other 50 audible crashes, furious expletives and unrelenting sounds of his fists crashing against the door followed.

It would have been the smart thing to do. The wise thing.

But, then again, Faith never had made a living out of doing "the wise thing." If she had, she wouldn't have two bodies on her and have lost three years of her life to prison.

She had followed him back after that nasty little scene in the library about 15 minutes ago. Why, she didn't really know. After all, Faith was the first to admit that she wasn't the most qualified person in the world to soothe another soul in need. And a few years back when she was talking a walk on the dark side, she might have even found the kind of pain she saw on Spike's face when Buffy effectively ripped out his heart, shredded it to mulch and used it to fertilize the lawn roses of hers and Angel's great love—yeah, she realized how corny that sounded in her head, too—hell, Faith might have even found it funny.

But that was then, and this was now. And seeing the pure hurt in Spike's eyes, the way he looked so deflated, so crushed, made her feel bad for him. And it kind of…hurt her a little, too. Seeing Spike, funny, brash, boastful, snarky, well-meaning, knows-his-way-around-a-good-fucking-kiss Spike so down caused something to stir restlessly in her, and it wouldn't stop until she could at least get a moment to talk to him, to see if he was okay…if there was anything she could do to make it better.

Partly, it was because Faith felt responsible somehow. Her mocking of Buffy's "Three-Ringed Circus of Love and Pain" with Angel and Spike jumping through the flaming hoops for her affections led to Buffy's words punching enough holes in Spike's heart to make it look like Swiss cheese. And while part of her was glad that at least Buffy was finally honest with herself and with both men about where her true feelings lay, she never wanted Spike to get hurt over it. And certainly not because Faith egged Buffy on about her indecisiveness toward her romantic affairs. But whether she liked it or not, Spike did get hurt. Badly. And she couldn't help but to think that this was partly her fault. And ever a repent-y soul now, Faith felt obliged to go and make sure that she could help play damage control in the hopes of healing Spike's emotional wounds.

She doubted it would help, though; hell, after giving Spike that ultimatum a little while ago, she should have been staying as far away from him as possible. Let him sort things out. Faith didn't want to mess up his mind anymore than Buffy had for God knows how long. It was like she told her blonde Chosen rival before the big throwdown in the library; she didn't play games for kicks. Not when it comes to someone's feelings…and especially not when those feelings were tied up with her own.

And yet, here she was, standing outside Spike's partially closed door like some damn puppy, waiting for Spike to get the rage and anger and pent up fury out of his system. She almost chuckled as she thought of what her past, twisted, violence-prone self would have thought if she could see herself now. _Probably would have thought I was pathetic. But then again, I wasn't exactly playing with a full deck back in the day, either._

Her musings ceased as she heard the noises largely stop inside the room, though there was still an audible rustling sound that she couldn't make out on the bed. Deciding that it wasn't nearly violent-sounding enough for her to worry about getting hit with something by mistake, she picked that moment to make her presence known.

Slightly pushing the open door further back, Faith caught sight of what could be best described as a morose scowl on Spike's face. The right corner of her full lips turned slightly in sympathy as she saw him stare down vacantly at the mess of clothing on his bed, his arms supporting his upper half as he leaned on the bed. Around him, it looked like a twister had visited the room. Vases, books, and chairs where thrown everywhere. Pieces of shattered pottery and splintered table legs were littering every which corner of the room. A bed lamp lay shattered on the opposite side of the room.

Seeing as he had yet to acknowledge her presence, Faith decided to take the first step. "Hey," she said somewhat softly, offering a faint, sympathetic smile. "So, uh, trying your hand at redecorating, are ya?"

_Oh, geez... _Faith winced at how bad her little joke sounded, even to her. Comedy definitely wasn't going to be a daytime gig for her.

His response was quick, hard and terse. "_Really_ not a good time, Slayer."

She expected that. There would have been a time where that would have been all the hint that Faith needed for her to throw up her hands and give up, leaving him to his own devices. But times were different now, and instead of bailing, she merely let a sigh escape her lips and tried again.

"Right. Sorry 'bout that," she offered, apologetically. "I…well, things got kinda crazy back there, what, with you and Angel throwing down and everything, and then Bu…uh, _but_, I figured you could use a friendly ear to vent to, or…something."

_Christ, I suck at this_, she realized. If her lame attempt to cover up using Buffy's name so soon to a clearly angry Spike didn't suck so bad, then her equally lame finish to her offering of help was even worse.

But Faith wasn't ready to mail it in so easily. She came here with the mind to talk with Spike about what happened, and she wasn't about to give it up until she could say "Mission: Accomplished." She just wished that she was better with this kind of thing, reaching out to people in need. She didn't have Angel's skill for it, or Willow's knack for projecting sincerity and empathy. Hell, right now, she would have almost settled for Andrew's flair for pointless yammering; at least he eventually got to a point.

Faith didn't have any of that. She was blunt, direct and to the point; others might deem her as "thoughtless" for it. But hell, she figured, at this point, what did she have to lose? At least she'd be able to say she tried something afterwards.

She took a deep breath, and just tried to get to the point. "Spike, I…look, I'm not good usually with this kind of thing, so I'm just gonna say it. I'm sorry it went down like that back there with B. That was a rough deal. And…well, honestly, it was pretty fucked up. I know you're probably pissed right now, and hurting, I get that. And you're in the right to be, but..." she sighed, trying to find the words even as Spike started to move around, randomly grabbing discarded clothes and a few personal items and tossing them on the bed.

Thinking nothing of it at first, she continued, "…but I think in the end, you'll be better off. The cards are all out on the table now. Yeah, you got dealt a bad hand, but at least won't be stuck wasting your time on something that was only going to end up even more messed up than it already was and was messing _you_ up with it. Angel and B, they've got the big 'Starcrossed Lovers' thing going, everyone knows that. And the fact that Buffy kept stringing you along as long as she has while she knew that it was Angel she wanted deep down was a pretty douchebag move on her part."

She began speaking in earnest, just giving him the truth, which was the best that she could offer. "And believe me, this isn't me trying to make a play for you right now when you're low, or trying to get some kind of pity sex out of it. This is just me being honest. I'm just sayin' that I…I know that it doesn't feel like it now, but there's nowhere to go but up from here. Yeah, I mean, it sucks now, but there's gonna be a point sometime, someday soon, where you can look back at this, and say…What the fuck is this?"

The crass question came after Faith took a look…a real look…at what Spike was doing. Somehow, she had failed to see the black duffel bag that was at the corner of his bed, until he started randomly tossing things into it, packing furiously, each object flung in with disdain, as if his toothbrush had insulted his mother or something.

When he didn't answer her, she stalked over to the edge of the bed, her eyes boring into him, demanding an answer. "Spike? Hey, _I'm talking to you!_"

She grabbed his arm roughly, turning his attention to her. As her angry dark chocolate irises met his simmering blue eyes, Faith felt something jump at the intensity that she found there in the taller man's depths. Dangerous and passionate. Wild and untamed. She always did have a weakness for bad boys, and Spike had practically invented the concept, as her stirring hormones could now attest. Her body was sending mixed messages, unsure if she wanted to get in a defensive crouch and get ready for combat, or to throw him to the ground, rip off the few remains of his tattered shirt and see just how wild and untamed he could be.

_Get a grip, damn it,_ Faith thought to himself angrily, as Spike stared at her for one painfully long moment. _The last thing this guy needs right now is for you to put the moves on his ass! He needs a friend, not for us to do the beast with two backs..._

Turning away, he continued to stuff his belongings into the bag. "It's called packing, luv. Figured you'd understand the concept after all the traveling you told me you've done over the years."

"I know what it is, smartass," Faith snapped, snatching the folded shirt in his hand away. "Now answer the damn question. What. The Fuck. Is This?"

"It's my shirt. Now, _give that back_," he demanded, angrily.

"Not until you tell me what the hell you think you're doing," Faith replied, un-intimidated as she stared back just as hard as he did.

"Fine. It's called 'needing some bloody space.' That what you wanted to here, then?" he ground out. "No way am I sticking around for breakfast to see Buffy and Captain Caveman Brow snogging or acting out their little soap opera, not after what happened back there. Not after all the shit I put meself through for her, and believe me, I've bent over as far backwards as I can for that bird for too damn long. Well, piss on that rut. I'm taking what little spine I've got left that hasn't broken on her account******–********–**"

"******–********–**and **_leaving_**?" Faith shot back, accusatorily. "The world's about three weeks from getting flash-fried by The First, and you're bailing on everyone because Miss Priss decided she doesn't want to play 'Hide the Stake' with you anymore? Are you freakin' **_serious_**? What the **_hell_**, Spike?"

"Oy, let's get something straight right now," Spike growled, his face only inches from hers. "You don't get to pull the high and mighty act with me, Slayer. Even if I did go for that bloody prattle, you don't know me. You don't get to judge me!"

"You're right. I don't know you. And with my record, I can't judge you either. But where I come from, there's a word for someone who runs away from a fight right when they're needed the most. It's called 'coward,'" Faith retorted, not backing down in the slightest. "Well, actually, I prefer 'chicken-shit,' but 'coward' pretty much covers it."

"You could call me 'Sally,' for all I bloody well care, luv, but it doesn't change a damn thing," Spike snorted, snatching the shirt out of her hands and throwing it into the duffel bag. "If this is my last three weeks on Earth, then I'm not hangin' around here for that oversized ape to rub my face in the fact that he won, and have salt poured on the wound. I'd rather go off to a nice, loud bar, get nice, loud and drunk and fall into a nice li'l 'I don't give a piss' state of mind about anything else."

"Does that include Dawn?" Faith replied angrily, noting that her words had an immediately sobering effect on the angry blond vampire. "Are you gonna stop giving a crap about her, too, _Sally_? You just got back on her good side, so, what, you're just gonna bail on her now while she's trying to figure out her shiny new superpowers in this shit-storm of an apocalypse, because you're pissed off at Big Sis? Well, if you can live with that, then hey, **_good for you_**, Spike."

Faith's tone became more sarcastic, cutting even. "Take care of good ol' Number One, and the hell with everyone else. And don't worry about Dawn, I'm sure she'll be fine. I mean, it's not like the poor kid isn't used to losing someone she loves by this point, right?"

_And I can't ask for things to be still again_

_No I can't ask for you_

_To offer the world through your eyes_

The Slayer's words brought up a swell of emotion in Spike's chest as he pictured Dawn's sweet, pretty face, the way her big blue eyes had shone with admiration when she had first started coming around his crypt, looking up at him with a kind of rock star-like worship. Like he was Guns 'N Roses, the Sex Pistols and Barney the Dinosaur wrapped into one. And then, when he pictured her reaction if she heard that he had simply left, disappeared into the night without so much as a 'See you around, Nibblet...'

It had taken him a while to earn his place back onto her "favorite people list" after that mess with Buffy last year. Of all the people in the Scooby Gang, Dawn was the one person aside from Buffy that he truly cared for; she was the little sister that he never had. She was the only one who had ever looked at him, treated him like a person, and not a wild, dangerous animal that was not to be trusted. She was…precious to him.

And he knew that she was scared. Despite her enthusiasm about these fabulous new powers, he could see fear, doubt in her eyes over the responsibility she now had, all the training she now had to do in a hurry, and in secret, with Faith, Spike, Connor and Darla, all while dealing with a pending apocalypse just around the bend. Dawn needed him around, he knew that. Now, perhaps, more than ever; if he abandoned her now, what kind of "big brother" would that make him?

_Longing for home again  
But home  
Is a feeling I buried in you_

But after what just happened back there, after Buffy ripped out his heart for the umpteenth time, and perhaps the last time, how was he just supposed to put it behind him? How was he supposed to ignore the aching in his chest whenever he saw her, or the burning fury whenever he saw Angel sink his claws into her or the stinging feel of humiliation knowing that she chose his poncy Grandsire over him…even after he gave up everything he was for her, changed nearly everything about himself all for her love?

Only to be cast off like a leper the very moment that the man who left her nearly four years ago crawled back into her life, taking everything for himself the way he _always_ had even in the old days, like he was so damned special…

Growling, Spike's anger rose as he flung a nearby flower pot that had thus far remained unscathed and hurled it against the wall, the pottery angrily exploding into jagged shards all over the floor.

Whirling, he turned on Faith, his eyes hard and blue, the bluest shade she's ever seen. Naked and furious and toiling with swirls of emotion, and again, she wasn't sure whether she should be scared, primed for a fight, or turned on to the max. He looked like he was about ready to blow, and Faith was right in the middle of the lava slide…until his shoulders just sagged and he deflated, shaking his head in bitter defeat.

_I'm alright  
I'm alright  
It only hurts when I breathe  
I'm alright  
I'm alright  
It only hurts when I breathe_

"I just…" he began, struggling to find the words, his raised up hands dropping at his sides again, before his right hand grabs the back of his head in frustration.

"I just need a moment to myself, can't I get just a stinkin' moment to myself, for once?" His question becomes harder, angrier. "Can't I just have a second to get my thoughts together without people shoving me into walls, punching me in the face and jumping me? Can a bloke get a moment to think with some peace and quiet for just a minute? Is that _too much_ to ask, huh?"

Caught between feeling pity for his obvious confusion and anger for getting what felt like the brushoff, Faith shook her head, ready to give up. "Just…forget it. I'm outta here, alright? I know, I shouldn't have even come in the first place..."

Disappointment settling in her chest, Faith turned to go when she felt a cool hand on her right arm. "Wait."

Turning back, she sees those baby blues of Spike staring back at her, locked right with her eyes. Not her breasts, not her ass, not anything else. They were drilling deep into her own eyes, boring into her in a way that somehow felt more intimate than any 10 mindless casual sex-capades that she could think of.

And off the contact, the way his cool fingers grip softly, but firmly on the warm flesh of her bicep, Faith is caught again between the instinct to slap his arm away and tell him not to touch her, that he hadn't earned that right yet, and a need to reach out, pull him towards her and see just how far this inexplicable pull between them could carry them, here and now, the shards of broken furniture and shattered lamp pieces be damned.

_My window through which  
Nothing hides  
And everything sings_

She could feel herself shaking a little, unused to the way he was looking at her, eyes fill with need, but need of a different kind. Not the need to fuck, but an earnest kind of need that both intrigued and scared the crap out of her at the same time.

Her voice was raspy, low, but with just the faintest hint of a tremor. "What?" she asked gently, but a little afraid.

She wished that she could make out the intention behind those stark, revealing blue eyes that seemed to peer into the very depths of her, but she hadn't a clue…until a gasp escaped her lips when he draws her close by her trim waist.

_I'm counting the signs  
And cursing the miles in between_

She only had a moment to stare up in surprise at the taller vampire and a little awe at how blue that shade in Spike's eyes really were before all thoughts are cut off when his lips slide over hers and his mouth crushes against hers in a searing liplock.

At first, her eyes widen and a muffled cry of surprise comes from her mouth, the dark-haired Slayer too surprised to resist. But as his cool lips continue their soft and yet firm pressure on her own, and as her eyes slowly fluttered closed, she felt something inside her melt and all thoughts of resistance slowly faded. The last thing she wanted to do at that moment was resist, as she let his fingers slip into her long, dark hair, her body relaxing a little in his embrace as her free hand slipped up around his neck.

She felt something spark and crackle inside her, like an old fuse come to life as she lost herself in the feel of Spike's lips. For a moment, she wonders if Buffy was crazy to have let a guy like this who could do the kinds of things he can do with his mouth slip away…

_Longing for home again  
But home  
Is a feeling I buried in you_

But the mere thought of Buffy's name was enough to snap her back to her senses.

"Spike," she tries, coming up for air but drowning in the long, heated kisses his cool mouth was lavishing her lips with. Struggling to find her voice, she squirms as she tries to get the words out between his kisses. "Wait…wait, stop…_Stop_!"

With one concentrated effort, she pushed hard against his chest with both hands and sent him flying back into the other side of the room with the force she used. Crying out in pain, Spike winced, clutching his tender back as the ache of his injuries from his fight with Angel began to make their painful presence felt.

For a moment, Faith's eyes widened in concern, instinct telling her to go to him before she forces herself to stay rooted where she was. Distance was the whole point of throwing him into a wall, after all.

"OW! Bloody hell, woman, what's gotten into you?" he questioned, genuine confusion on his face. Was there some kind of boundary that he had stepped over, even though she seemed to be very inviting just a few moments before?

"**Me**? What about _**you**_?" she demands, throwing her hands up in the air, angry and confused and admittedly, pretty horny right now. "You tell me you want me to go, then you shove your tongue down my mouth? What the hell was that just now?"

He takes a moment, searching his own feelings for some semblance of an answer, for what drove him to do what he just did. "I thought…I thought we were having a moment."

She stares at him, bewildered. "_What_? What did you…why were you…I mean…_why_?"

He stared back, as if he expected her to understand. Giving up off the confusion on her pretty face, he clumsily explained, "I just thought…I mean, isn't this what you wanted?"

She gaped at him. "You think I wanted to be your _pity fuck_ after B just dumped you? _Are you serious right now_?" She spat out the words 'pity fuck' with disdain, like they were garbage on her tongue as she glared at him furiously. "I told you before, Spike. I'm not into that. I'm **_nobody's_ **rebound girl."

He got angry, indignant. Being dumped by one Slayer was bad enough for tonight, but two? He could only take so much. "You didn't seem to have your high moral standing earlier tonight when you had your hands all over my knickers, did ya?"

"Because I thought you wanted to be with _me_, asshole!" she snapped, angrily. "If I had known you still had Buffy on that bleached brain of yours, I would have stayed home and babysat the Wonder Kids."

"What the hell bloody _difference_ does it make?" he asked, frustrated. "Buffy's made her choice, luv******–********–**"

"So, I'm, what, your _**consolation prize**_? Is _**that** _it?" Faith snapped, angry and offended. "Can't be with the love of your life, but you'll settle for the first thing with tits that looks at you pretty?"

"I didn't say that!" Spike growled, getting angry. "Damn it all, if you could let me stick my two cents in without tearing my head off for a second******–********–**"

"Spike," she cuts him off, exasperated and exhausted. It's late, she was tired, and all of this was just too damn confusing to deal with in the middle of the night and after the night she had.

_I'm alright  
I'm alright  
It only hurts when I breathe  
I'm alright  
I'm alright  
It only hurts when I breathe_

She brushed a stray lock of wild hair from her face, and the gesture held Spike's captivated gaze as he measured her up, her expressive brown eyes looking down for a moment as she searched for the right words before she looked back up at him, full, inviting lips pursed together before she spoke.

"Look…you want me to be honest with you? Fine….I want you. Not gonna deny that. But I sure as hell don't want you like _this_. I've lived the last couple of years of my life freezing in Buffy's shadow when it comes to slaying. But I'm sure as hell not gonna finish second to her with any guy _I'm_ with. I'm _done_ playing runner up to Miss friggin' Perfect. So, if it's a cheap fuck that you're looking for to make you stay, then you might as well pack up your shit and not let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

"But…" she pauses again, her expression going softer as she locks eyes with Spike. "If you're gonna stay, stay for the right reasons. Stay for Dawn, for Darla, hell, even for Andrew. Stay to save the world. Stay because we need you here, or because it's the right thing to do, stay for…"

_Me_, the thought crossed her mind involuntarily, almost cruelly. _Stay because you want me. Just me. **Only** me. _She knew deep down that he's not over Buffy, hell, he might never get over her; but as much of a Slayer that Faith was, she was also a woman, and even after all the disappointments in her life, she found herself daring to hope.

Sighing, she shakes her head and brushes off that thought before she finds Spike's gaze again. "Stay because you want to, I guess is what I'm tryin' to say."

A beat, before she started again. "Look, can you at least stay until after breakfast tomorrow? Think about it for the night? And after that, if you still wanna bail, then fine, I get it, I won't stop you. But just…sleep on it for the night. As a favor to me?"

Spike rubbed a tired hand across his face. Damn it, that was not at all what he had in mind. He certainly didn't want to hang out here long enough to look at Buffy, not after that mess in the library. He felt too embarrassed, too angry. And if Angel crossed his line of vision, Spike was sure there would be blood. But there was the Nibblet to consider; Dawn would never forgive him if he just took off without saying a word.

And then…there was Faith. It wasn't Buffy who was coming down here to check on his wounded soul after she basically threw scalding oil over it; no, that was Faith.

Faith, who wouldn't let him leave so easily. Who, despite this palpable attraction between them, wouldn't accept a roll in the hay with him borne out of anger and heartbreak and pain, which, he had to admit, made him respect the hell out of her for that. Who was bargaining with him using those deep, expressive mocha-shaded orbs of hers that drew him in inexplicably to at least stay the night and think things over instead of fly outta the Pouf's hotel like a bat out of hell.

With a breathless sigh and a shake of his head, Spike relented. "Alright, luv, have it your way. But no guarantees after breakfast. I've got a lot to think about," he muttered, resigned to staying the night.

It was almost worth it, he found himself thinking, when he saw the right corner of Faith's lips twitch in what appeared to be a smile fighting to find its way to her face.

"Thanks," she said, honestly.

He gives a small smirk, but it ends up becoming a genuine, albeit tiny, smile. "No problem," he drawls, before he takes a look around the blown up crap around his room. "_Aaand_ now I've gotta mess around here to deal with."

She smiled, but hesitated for a moment, as if pondering whether the next thing she was about to ask was a good idea. "You need help picking it up?"

_When I breathe  
It only hurts when I breathe  
When I breathe  
It only hurts when I breathe..._

There's more to that question than what's beneath the surface, they both know that. And for a moment, he was sorely tempted to take her up on that offer…but he didn't want to dwell on that…not right now. That was a question for him to ponder over sleep. There was a lot he had to think about over sleep.

"Nah, it's Angel's problem, I reckon. His hotel, and all. I'll send him the bill."

Faith chuckled, despite herself, as she shook her head at Spike's flippant attitude. "Well, if you change your mind about cleaning it up, you know where to find me."

"Yeah, luv," the British undead smiled at her genuinely, **_barely _**starting to put all the heartache behind him. "I know."

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**Next: When a heated moment of passion between Buffy and Angel goes awry, the results could spell doom for their slowly rebuilding romance. And will a bold move by The First and its allies mean some deadly results for our heroes? **

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys! I'm baaaack! Sorry about the long...really long...wait. Things have been kinda hectic over the last year. Got a new job which is extraordinarily demanding, and despite my original intentions, I got sucked into writing a new and really big fic story (moral of the day, kids, when you write a one-shot, make sure it's ONLY a one-shot, no matter how much people beg and clamor for more. lol)

Compared to what I normally write, this is a pretty short chapter, but I was trying to grease the wheels and start anew again, because I really missed writing this story, it's my baby :) lol And it set more of a tone between the way I wanted Faith and Spike's feelings for each other to go down in the next few chapters. You can thank the new "Angel and Faith" comics for the burst of inspiration that made me want to write this quick chapter; gave me the feel for how Spike and Faith could interact, and the ideas for how to press them further along as they figure out what they mean to each other. But love is never an easy road in the Buffyverse, and things are only going to get harder, especially in the next few chapters to come...for everyone.

Well, gtg. Read, review, like me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter and hopefully, I'll be back soon with the next chapter. Until then, stay thirsty, my friends. :)

-Jean-theGuardian


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